The Wizarding World War
by hornbeamtree
Summary: "A little more than twenty years ago, I sat in the Great Hall with the rest of the students, and I listened to my headmaster give me some of the most frightful news that I had ever received." Neville Longbottom looked down at the Gryffindor students he governed, all gathered in the comfort and safety of their common room, and sighed heavily. "Tonight I must do the same for you."
1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

Hello! Using a prologue I wrote back in 2008(!), I've started writing the first fanfic that I've worked on in about six years. Hope you enjoy it!

P.S: The rest of the chapters are from a western point of view (a.k.a. the characters we all know and love.) I just wanted to start out with a different perspective on the Wizarding Hemispheric Conflict of 1979.

* * *

**Prologue**

**Zhuzhou, China**

**January 18, 1979**

* * *

The streets of Zhuzhou were basked in flickering firelight. My mother insists that it never happened, but I remember that night. It was one of the best nights of my life. I was only seven years old then, still a little girl, and did not know much of the world. That night I learned much more than I could ever have imagined.

It was late into the night when they reached our part of Zhuzhou. Their loud cheers and shouts tickled my ears and I awoke with a start, my eyes flickering open to see red shadows dancing on my bedroom walls. My first thought was that our small home was on fire, but then I looked out the window and saw them. Our house was on the village square, which is where they were beginning to gather. I climbed out of bed and walked to the window, squatting so that my eyes barely cleared the bottom edge.

They were dressed in robes, colored brilliantly with reds and oranges, with floating torches high above their heads and short wooden sticks that shot fireworks. I gasped for breath as one man directed a shower of falling stars in the skies above. They seemed to be celebrating.

Their leader, wearing a golden mask while the others wore red, stood on the fountain walls.

"My friends!" He held on to one of the stone dragons sticking out of the fountain and swung around to face the crowd. "Tonight, our time of glory is upon us!"

Their triumphant shouts overtook the man's voice, and he waited for them to quiet.

"Tonight we join our comrades in Beijing, where we will take hold of our neighbors' hands and conquer the Europeans with a speed and efficiency they have never seen before! There they sit in their castles ignorantly passing laws, restricting our livelihoods, sure of their ultimate power. But tonight, under Lin Wang's guidance, we shall prevail! Freedom, for each wizard who fights back!"

My older sister ran into the room, grabbing my elbow and pulling me into the hall, "Suri, get away from the window! What are you doing? They'll see you!"

"They're planning a war!"

"Suri, I'm sure it's not a war you have to worry about. They are not our kind."

"But they are! They're talking about joining hands with Beijing to overtake the Europeans and-"

"No, Suri. I mean they're not normal," she looked around before dropping to her knees in front of me. She took my arms and shook me a little as she spoke. "Suri, they have a power. They've been floating things around and destroying things with little sticks and-"

"Kiya, I'm afraid!"

"Suri, go back to bed. They won't notice us. They're not here to bother us."

And then, everything was silent. I could hear my father shifting in his bed, the mats and blankets rustling with his movement. He hadn't seemed to notice the riot outside. Kiya and I ran to my window.

"Kiya, they're gone."

"Suri, go to bed. Don't mention this to anyone tomorrow at school." And with that, she left.

In the morning on my walk to the schoolhouse, nothing in the square was amiss. I looked to Kiya to see if she noticed.

"The flowers look pretty today, don't you think?" she smiled sweetly, giving no hint that she was thinking about what had happened the night before. Maybe I had dreamed it.

I turned back and was silent the rest of the walk.


	2. Chapter One : The Hogwarts Express

**Chapter One**

**Hogwarts**

**September 1, 2017**

* * *

As the Hogwarts Express flew along the rails above a Scottish forest, Victoire Weasley sighed deeply, her elbow resting on the small windowsill and her thumb absentmindedly brushing against her lips. If she hadn't been heading back to Hogwarts as a seventh year, she didn't know if she would have boarded. Each and every friend she had made had graduated in the spring, and after finally telling Teddy Lupin that she loved him mere seconds before boarding the train, she found herself traveling away from far more things than she was traveling towards. A sound jolted her from her thoughts and her elbow slipped from the windowsill, hitting the wall hard.

"Bloody HELL Rose," Victoire rubbed her smarting elbow, "could you be any less ladylike?"

Rose Weasley had swung open the compartment's door with a bang, thinking it was empty. She sat down anyway. "My mum says there's no certain way to act like a lady. Manners aren't sex-specific."

Victoire huffed and leaned back against the cushioned bench, taking a second before she turned again to her cousin. "Why've you just now come in? Where have you been?"

Rose blew her hair out of her face and kicked her legs around a bit, feeling much more like a child than she had anticipated she would on her first train ride to Hogwarts. "I was sitting with the boys but they're rude and tiresome, and Lucy and Anne wouldn't let me join them. So I went looking for an empty compartment but there were none, apparently. I didn't see you in here."

Victoire watched as her younger cousin hastily explained herself. She looked flustered, which was something Victoire often felt but never looked, thanks to the part of her that was Veela. Tall, blonde, and graceful, Victoire and her siblings often looked slightly out of place around their cousins, but only because of their aesthetics. They had all practically been raised together, aunts and uncles acting as extra mums and dads if the real ones were away or even just in the next room. The Weasley-Potter clan was large but smotheringly close, and Victoire often wanted to murder the members of her family, but there were the occasional moments when she was reminded of how comforting they were to have around. For instance, now, when Victoire was feeling incredibly lonely, even her eleven-year-old Rosie made her feel a few measures better.

After a while of silence, Victoire looked back up to Rose, who had her nose firmly settled into a new edition of _Hogwarts, A History_. "Are you nervous, Rosie?"

Rose, who had clearly not been too engrossed, replied immediately. "No."

Victiore smiled and sat up straight, unwrapping a pumpkin pasty she had bought off the trolley earlier in the day. "Not at all? I was very nervous on my first ride to Hogwarts. Kept having dizzy spells. Ran into Teddy in the hallway and was sick all over his shoes." Victoire smiled.

Rose peered out over her book. "And he still snogs you?"

"Rose!" Victoire threw the pasty wrapping at the redhead, laughing. "Yes, he still snogs me" she replied quietly.

Rose put her book down and moved down the bench until she was directly in front of Victoire, who handed her the last few bites of the pasty. "Have you snogged many boys?"

Victoire narrowed her eyes a bit as she dusted any crumbs off her hands. "Why do you ask?"

Rose talked with her mouth full. "Earlier when James was re-enacting how you were snogging with Teddy, Fred said that you have snogged almost every boy at Hogwarts."

Victiore was about to respond with a rather nasty opinion of Fred when the compartment door slid open again. In the doorway were two additional Weasleys, Lucy and Roxanne.

"Anne! We were just discussing your revolting brother."

"I'm certainly not claiming him, the git just stole my last ten sickles. The rest of my money is back in my trunk, do either of you have any? We want to buy something off the trolley before we get to the station."

Rose emptied her pockets of a few knuts and handed them to Anne.

"Thanks, love." Anne and Lucy retreated from the compartment and slid the door closed.

"You don't have to be so nice to them, Rosie, especially when they're often mean to you." Victoire said as she pulled her school robes out of her carry-on bag. "They're hardly a year older, they've got no reason to be so pretentious."

Rose shrugged, taking her robes out as well. "Lucy's nice. I just want them to think I'm interesting. I think _they're_ interesting."

"They're as interesting as a pile of doorknobs, Rosie." Victoire grabbed Rose's long black hat and fit it firmly onto her head. "Don't worry, we really only wear these on more formal occasions."

* * *

James Potter was happy to be starting his third year at Hogwarts. He had come to love nothing more than the great castle stocked with potential victims (his fellow students) and life-defining challenges (evading professors.) In fact, during summers he most often found himself dreaming up ways to better himself during his time at the fine institution. Conveniently, his mother had grown tired of repairing the structural damage he and his cousin Louis had repetitively caused to the third floor of the modest Potter estate and had relinquished the rarely-used guest house to them, baring fires, explosives, and anything illegal.

After reaching the Hogsmead station, James left the train in search of an empty carriage to take up to the castle. His father had told him of the thestrals that pulled the carriages ever since he was a baby, as part of the fairy-tale that was Hogwarts. None of his friends seemed to believe him, even when he was obviously petting them (though he couldn't see them himself.)

Climbing aboard a carriage with Louis, Fred, and Frank Longbottom, James listened for the soft snorts and shifting hooves from the thestrals. He always thought that he heard them, but he didn't know if it wasn't wishful thinking. James never wished that someone would die so he could see the thestrals, but he sometimes thought that if someone _had _to die, it would be nice if they went ahead and kicked the bucket in front of him, just so he could find out what the creatures really looked like.

Louis elbowed James as he sat down. "What're you so quiet for, hm? Thinkin 'bout your mum already?"

James rolled his eyes at his friend. "Thinking about your mum is more like it."

Fred gave his cousin a thumbs up and a grin for the comment from across the carriage before going back to a private conversation with Frank.

"Gross! She's your aunt, you know."

"Yeah but she's half Veela, it'd be insulting to her beauty to not think about it."

Louis shook his head in dismay. "What do you suppose Fred and Frank are up to?" he asked James as he retrieved an opened bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans from his knapsack and spilling a few on the floor.

James shrugged and reached down to the floor for a green bean that had fallen from the bag. "Ten knuts for you to eat it." The bet was an unlucky one, but common. James was sure to lose those ten knuts, but Louis was also sure to experience a highly unpleasant taste in his mouth from now until after the Sorting, which was a good hour away. Louis took the bean (and the knuts) and popped it into his mouth.

"I swear on Dumbledore's pearly grave this is piss flavored." Louis held his hand to his stomach like he was going to be sick.

Before James could even laugh, Fred moved to sit between them and popped James on the knee with a piece of parchment.

"D'you want to know what I found?"

"Was it your virginity?"

Fred hung his head in disappointment. "I swear, every time I forget you two are only thirteen you open your mouths and remind me."

James blushed a little, but the comment didn't truly sting. "What did you find?"

Fred sat back and opened the parchment across all three of their laps. He took out his wand and tapped the middle. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

Slowly a message and an image etched its way onto the paper.

"Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs are proud to present the Marauder's Map." James looked up at his older cousin. "What the bloody hell is a Marauder's Map?"

Fred nodded towards the map. "It's a map. Of Hogwarts."

"Of Hogwarts."

"Of Hogwarts, that tracks the whereabouts of every inhabitant and shows us the entrance to every single _secret passageway._"

James's eyes widened. "Hogwarts has secret passageways?"

"Surely you've found at least one? What kind of prankster are you, not having found at least the one under the whomping willow? The one under the witch's hump? Seriously, James, I'm ashamed." Fred shook his head as he deactivated the map (_Mischief Managed_), folded the map and stuck it back into his pocket, preparing for the carriage's halt at the castle doors.

James hopped out of the carriage behind Frank and hurried to catch up with Fred. "Where'd you find the map?"

Fred scratched his neck. "I nicked it."

"From where?"

"I was looking in Uncle Harry's office for a quill, and this was sitting in a drawer."

"You nicked it from _Dad?_"

"Seems like he has a few more secrets he's keeping from us!"

James's eyes furrowed in confusion, but he stopped asking questions and went on into the Great Hall, even forgetting to wave at Uncle Neville as he passed by.

It was a long while before the first-years filed into the hall, even more of them than usual soaking wet from falling into the lake. Hagrid looked annoyed as he lead them up to the front of the room before sitting down and throwing back the glass of mead waiting for him.

James and his friends didn't pay much attention to the sorting until they began to reach the last half of the alphabet, where the P's and W's were.

Neville Longbottom, who was the Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts and their Herbology Professor as well as their adopted Uncle, was calling out the names.

"Potter, Albus"

James looked up from the Gryffindor table (as did the rest of the Weasley-Potter family) and craned his neck to get a good view of his little brother, who was looking quite green in the face as he approached the stool. Albus shut his eyes the second the sorting hat touched his head. A few seconds later, the results were out.

"RAVENCLAW!"

The Ravenclaw table cheered, and the Weasley-Potters did too, after a few moments of adjustment. James watched his brother trot over to the table, looking terrified. Dominique Weasley, their only other family member to not be in Gryffindor, moved over to let James sit down beside her. She ruffled his hair, being uncharacteristically, if only momentarily, affectionate. James sighed and then laughed, leaning over to Louis to whisper as "Roberts, Terry" was called.

"I told Al there was nothing to worry about. There was no way he had the guts to be a Slytherin."

Louis chuckled, but nodded towards the group of first-years still standing. "Look, Rose is up next in line."

James looked up in time to see "Scourgum, Robin" hop off of the stool and walk over to the cheering Hufflepuffs.

"Weasley, Rose"

Rose calmly took her seat on the sorting stool and took a deep breath as the sorting hat was placed on her head. Seconds passed, and then minutes, and James was starting to get nervous for his cousin.

"SLYTHERIN!"

The hall froze. A short but incredibly awkward silence lingered in the hall, which to Rose felt like hours. James looked around at the friends and family members closest to him as the Slytherins began to cheer. Every Weasley and Potter sat with an open mouth, bodies stretching to get the best view of Rose as she slowly made her way to the wrong table.


	3. Chapter Two : Squirrels & Snakes

**Chapter Two**

**Godric's Hollow**

**September 2, 2017**

* * *

Ginny Potter set her coffee cup down onto the wooden breakfast table, absentmindedly stirring it with the repetitive circular movement of her index finger. She read and re-read the letter she had received in the morning post.

_Dear Mum,_

_I've been sorted into Ravenclaw. The food was very good but the train ride was long. James is being an arse as usual (I know, watch my language) and I miss you already (but don't tell anyone.) My bed is very comfortable and I think I'm going to like it here. I got the password into the common rooms right on the first try. It's good that Rose and I have been reading Hogwarts: A History aloud all summer. By the way, Rose is in Slytherin._

_I'll write soon,_

_Albus_

After the fourth or fifth time, Ginny set the letter down and slid it back into the envelope, leaving it out for Harry to read when he got home. She sat resting her chin in the palm of her hand staring out the kitchen window for a long while, wondering if she should call on Hermione or pretend that she didn't know anything at all. At last, she sighed. There was no pretending with Hermione. Ginny stood up, walked to her kitchen fireplace, and threw some floo power in to connect to her brother and sister-in-law's residence. She kneeled down and stuck her head in.

"Hermione?"

"Coming!"

As Ginny waited for her best friend to enter the Weasley's living room, Ginny looked around. Ron and Hermione's house was a strange mixture of wizard and muggle. Moving portraits were hung amongst still ones, there was a piano but no ghoul to play it, and a clock that kept time next to a clock with the family's whereabouts. The two worlds of muggle and magic rarely blended seamlessly, and Ron and Hermione were no exception, but everything had its place and that was the important part.

Hermione made her way into the living room and threw a large cushion on the floor in front of the fireplace to sit on. She was already dressed for work in a smart navy pantsuit, but with her came a floating basket of laundry to be folded during their conversation. Ginny smiled.

"Have some work before work, why don't ya?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm still playing catch up with the last of the kid's summer laundry. Who knew they had so many clothes?" Hermione sniffed a particularly dingy t-shirt and scrunched her nose. "How do you get the smell of Quidditch out of clothes?"

Ginny shook her head. "You don't. It doesn't make sense that you get so dirty flying around in the air but it's like you've been rolling in sweat and dirt. Before I retired from the Harpies I was buying new practice robes almost every week!"

Hermione smiled and started folding some shorts. "Do you miss it?"

"I adored playing professional Quidditch, you know that, but I've enjoyed my years off with the kids, too."

Hermione nodded. "Isn't it crazy, Gin? We're in our thirties and we've got kids off at Hogwarts and we sit here in the floo with our coffees every morning talking about laundry." Hermione slouched a little bit and shook her head at Ginny. "I mean _bloody hell_, wasn't it just yesterday that we became friends at Hogwarts?"

Ginny laughed. Hermione hadn't had a quarter-life crisis in a while. She supposed it was time for another.

Hermione shrugged. "I guess I'm just feeling anxious in general. I sent my first off to Hogwarts yesterday! That was rough. I know you've got three out there now, but this is much more difficult than I expected."

Hermione finished the last of the folding and waved them all back into the basket. Why she didn't fold them magically as well, Ginny didn't know, but Hermione had lots of strange housekeeping rules that she supposed came from growing up as a muggle.

Ginny took a sip of her coffee. "Speaking of Rose, has she written you yet?"

Hermione shook her head. "Nope, but the post came in just before you called. Let me go see if there's a letter in there."

Ginny threw back the rest of her coffee while she waited for Hermione to come back, which she did, quickly, and with a letter.

Ginny let out a short breath of laughter. "Hermione! You haven't even opened it yet and you're already teary."

The older witch wiped at her eyes. "I miss her, alright?"

Ginny nodded and waited as Hermione opened and read the letter. Hermione got to the bottom and looked up, her eyes wide.

"Ron's going to be livid."

"I know."

"What do you mean you know? Did she write you too?"

"No, but Albus included it in his letter. He's in Ravenclaw."

"Of course he is. There isn't a mean bone in his body, I don't know why he was so worried."

Ginny squeaked in protest, "Hermione you can't talk like that now! You've got a Slytherin in the family!"

"It's just so strange. I knew she could be rotten sometimes but I didn't know she was _cunning._"

"Is that the dictionary definition for a Slytherin?" Ginny laughed.

Hermione pretended to swat Ginny with the letter. She sighed and looked at her watch.

"I've got about ten minutes until I've got to be at the ministry. Ron went out on a raid this morning so I think I'll go in early and see if he's still at the office. He probably shouldn't get this bit of news from a letter."

Ginny agreed. "I'll talk to you later on then. Tell Ron I said hello! Are we still on for dinner?"

"Absolutely, I'll expect everyone around six."

"I'll see you, then."

* * *

Hermione stood in her kitchen after she got home from work. She slid her heels underneath the kitchen island and flung her jacket and purse onto the hooks behind their back door. It had been a long day. A lot of paperwork, a lot of interruptions from her husband. Each time she had been close to closing an argument with her boss on a statute providing preferential treatment to pureblooded witches and wizards in regard to who could be the executor of an estate, Ron had run in with his hands flying through the air.

"I just – Slytherin, Hermione! Our Rosie, a Slytherin. This is too much. I warned you! It's all that reading she does! If you had let me drag her out to more Quidditch matches, maybe we wouldn't be in this predicament!"

Hermione had handed out more death glares to her husband in one day than she probably had done in an entire school year back at Hogwarts.

Hermione leaned against the kitchen counter and rolled her head around her shoulders. She wasn't worried about Rose at all, to be honest, and it frustrated her to no end that Ron was making such a big deal out of it. She glanced at her watch and then at the clock on the wall. Ron's spoon had shifted from "work" to "traveling" and within seconds it arrived and settled on "home."

"Hermione?" Ron called as he walked in the back door. "Oh, there you are." He walked to the kitchen sink and washed his hands. After drying, he loosened his tie and leaned his back against the sink. Hermione gave him a small, tired smile before closing her eyes and resting her head against his chest. He pulled her closer and clasped his hands together against the small of her back.

"My mum's changed her mind again." Ron said, resting his cheek on the top of her head.

Hermione's icy reply was muffled against his body. "What?"

"She and Dad have decided they will come tonight after all."

Hermione groaned, and without looking, flicked her wand towards their refrigerator. Out came frozen chicken breasts and vegetables and other ingredients for their dinner. "Don't say a word. I'm cheating." She looked up at Ron, who rolled his eyes.

"Using magic isn't cheating, Hermione. I know very few wizards who use magic as sparingly as you do."

She shrugged, standing up straight and pulling her apron from the shelving underneath the island. "Magic shouldn't be a crutch!"

"I know, I know." Ron said as he began unbuttoning his shirt on the walk upstairs to change.

Two hours later, Hermione opened the door to their arriving guests. Molly Weasley came in first carrying two pies and bag of presents, followed by Arthur, Ginny, Harry, and Lily. Hugo, Hermione's youngest, grabbed Lily by the hand and the two of them sprinted out into the back yard.

"Hi Hermione." Harry said with a grin, clasping her on the shoulder. She greeted Harry and Ginny with a kiss on the cheek before rushing back to the kitchen, yelling something about a burning rue. Molly, Harry, and Ginny joined her in the kitchen while Arthur and Ron took a bottle of scotch and a newspaper out to the back deck. For Christmas, Hermione and Ron had given Arthur a subscription to various "monthly" muggle clubs. There was a "Dinner and a Movie a Month" club that took him and Molly out on the muggle town once a month as well as a "Scotch of the Month" club, deciding to tell Arthur that knowledge of dark liquors was the mark of a fine muggle man. Arthur brought one of his monthly bottles to every social event he attended.

"Do you need any help, dear?" Molly asked, already checking in on the roasted potatoes in the oven.

Hermione shook her head, "We're all good, Molly, everything's about done."

"Are you sure? Those potatoes look a bit pale…"

"Mum!" Ginny scolded. "Let Hermione alone in her own kitchen!"

Molly moved to start setting places at the table. "Oh, Ginny, she knows I didn't mean– Hermione, I'm sorry if I offended you, dear."

Hermione laughed and shook her head as she scooped gravy into a dish. "Don't worry about it."

Everyone carried their dinners out to the back porch and called Lily and Hugo up from the yard, where they were playing near the pond.

"Hugo levitated a rock," Lily announced as she sat down in her chair and speared a roast carrot with her fork. "but then he dropped it on a squirrel. It was a big rock."

"Hugo!" Hermione spun around to scowl at her youngest son. "Why on earth-

"I'm sure he didn't mean to, 'Mione." Ron said, his mouth full of chicken.

"Alright, you do some parenting for a change! Go on, let's see it then!" Hermione said as she sat down, accepting the water that the pitcher had poured into her glass.

Ron finished chewing his chicken, and, still gripping a fork and knife, rested his forearms against the table and turned to his son. "Hugo,"

"Dad,"

"Your mother and I would rather you not do magic on purpose quite yet, or harm any animals in the process."

"Okay." Hugo replied, licking his spoon.

"Don't lick your spoon." Hermione snapped, glaring at Ron who simply smiled in return.

"So have you heard from Albus or Rose yet?" Arthur asked.

Ron dropped his silverware onto his plate and leaned back in his chair, groaning. "Oh, Rose."

Harry snorted. "Ignore him, he's just sore because Rose got sorted into Slythern, is all."

Arthur looked up from his plate wide-eyed before cutting into his chicken. "Did she really? Our Rose, a Slytherin?"

Hermione nodded. "That's right, and Albus a Ravenclaw."

Molly nodded "Well we all saw that one coming, we did."

"But Rose, a Slytherin! Honestly, you lot, I don't know how I'm going to face it! Not once in my entire Hogwarts career did I meet a Slytherin who was worth something. Not once."

Harry shook his head. "You can never say that to Rose, mate. Not even once. Besides, you know that's where the sorting hat almost put me."

"And you had enough sense to tell it no!"

Hermione stood up from the table, grabbing her plate before marching into the house. "Honestly, Ron, I don't know how you see at all with your head stuck so far up your own arse."

A thiry-seven year old Ronald Weasley slumped back in his chair, pouting and blushing as if he were his ten-year-old son that sat beside him.

* * *

Later that evening as the group sat chatting in Hermione and Ron's modest living room, after Molly had given presents to Lily and Hugo ("Honestly, Mum, you spoil them." "Honestly, Ginny, it's my grandmotherly right."), Ron looked up from the paper he had spent the better part of the evening sulking behind.

"Does anyone know what it is they're talking about with the Chinese Magical Authority and the International Confederation of Wizards?"

"Oh are they at it again?" Arthur asked, keeping a steady pace in his rocking chair.

"Again?" Ginny asked from the hearth where she sat braiding Lily's hair.

Arthur nodded. "What was it, Molly, late seventies would you say? When some of the eastern powers decided they wanted to wage a war with the members of the ICW?"

Molly, who was getting a head start on her knitting for Christmas (the numbers of sweaters in demand each Christmas had multiplied exponentially in the last decade), nodded in agreement. "That sounds right. A year or so before Ron was born, if I remember correctly. Thank goodness they called it off when they did, Merlin knows the Order was stretched thin enough just then."

"Why'd they call it off?" Harry asked.

Arthur shrugged. "I suppose it had something to do with Voldemort's rise to power. It was strange, though. It ended as quickly as it began. We sent intelligence over there and within weeks they were useless because the masses of witches and wizards that had been gathering all over the continent just dispersed."

Molly's knitting paused. "You know, I think Fabian and Gideon had just gotten back from Japan the day they were ambushed."

Lily twisted her head around to look at her aunt. "Who's Fabian and Gideon?"

Ginny put a hairband around the end of Lily's braid. "My uncles. They were heroes in the first Voldemort war. I never met them, I wasn't even born yet." Ginny softly popped her niece on the head. "Pretty sure your mum said it was bedtime, sweets."

"Ooh." Lily hopped up, kissing her aunt on the cheek and then making her way around the room to say goodnight to everyone.

"We'd best head out as well," Arthur got up to help Molly up from the couch. "we've got an early start tomorrow, off for a visit at Shell Cottage."

"Give Bill and Fleur our love." Hermione said, walking her mother and father-in-law to the door and hugging them both.

"Thank you for dinner, Hermione. It was delicious." Molly said as they walked out the door. The couple gave a quick wave and apparated from the sidewalk. Harry and Ginny soon followed, a sleeping Hugo slung over Harry's shoulders.

"Goodbye, Hermione!" Ginny called as they made their way down the pebbled walkway. "Floo over for tea any time next week."

Hermione and Ron stood waving in the doorway until all that was left of their company was a soft _crack_ and the faintest of winds.

* * *

"As you'll remember, the International Confederation of Wizards sees its roots in the Medieval Assembly of European Wizards, which still exists today but it's capacity as the largest and most important wizarding intergovernmental organization, or WIGO, has been taken over by the ICW. At the International Warlock Convention of 1289 delegates from the Medieval Assembly of European Wizards, the Wizarding Society of the Gobi Desert, The Egyptian Coven, Manco Capac, and a subcommittee of Sardinian sorcerers met to discuss how global wizarding laws should be written and applied. Soon after the International Confederation of Wizards was formed, and finally in 1689 they signed their first major law, the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, though it was not established until 1692. At the Warlock's Convention of 1709, hosted by the International Confederation of Wizards but not within their official session, participants decided to outlaw artificial dragon breeding, both because dragons could not be tamed and because wizards with pet dragons would easily be detected by muggles. This was a direct effect of both the International Warlock Convention of 1289 and the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, despite the fact that those two events have around 400 years separating them."

Victoire Weasley yawned into the palm of her hand while the Quick-Notes Quill that her Uncle George had designed specifically for her took notes from Professor Binn's lecture. As one of only two seventh-years sitting for the NEWT level History of Magic exams, it was even more difficult to sit through the class without falling asleep than it had been in years past when there were more people to provide entertainment. As of now, it was impossible for Victoire and the other student to even attempt communication since Professor Binns had decided to create, in this small class, an "environment to better foster discussion" by sitting the three of them at a small, round table in his office rather than in the usual classroom. This was the only encouragement he provided, however, because other than forcing his students to sit knee to knee with a rather chilling spectre, Professor Binns lectured at his usual monotonous pace without breaking for questions.

Glancing at the other student across the small coffee table, Victoire rolled her eyes. It wasn't as if she wanted to have any communication with Kip Sawley anyway.

Kip Sawley was a gawking monstrosity of a boy and always had been. He wasn't unattractive, but he used his broad, square frame to his advantage in every situation possible, and was in fact quite rude and nasty. His mother, Lynette Sawley, had grown up with Victoire's aunts and uncles at Hogwarts and they had small pleasant conversations in passing, but their small niceties had no influence on Victoire's negative feelings towards Lynette's son.

"The International Confederation of Wizards was at the core of the Wizarding Hemispheric Conflict of 1979. "Hemispheric" is a misnomer, as the conflict was mainly between Asiatic wizarding powers and the other members of the International Confederation of Wizards. Specifically, the Chinese Magical Authority and the Ministry of Indian Wizardry found major fault and offense in sanctions placed on them regarding their involvement in muggle's creation of nuclear weapons. The muggle's nuclear arms race was a wizarding concern as well as muggle, as many wizards took part in the creation of the first atomic bomb and the creation of legislation that followed afterwards. After very punishing sanctions were placed on wizarding China and India, they planned a physical response, amassing thousands of wizards in under a week's time in locations such as Kyoto, Beijing, and Kolkata. The dark lord Voldemort's rising, however, quickly stunted their growth as he and his followers showed an unmerciful growth of power in their weeks of planning. War was adverted." Professor Binns performed a shallow bow, signaling the end of his lecture.

At the end of the first week's last History of Magic class, Victoire stood and hurried out of the classroom, almost knocking her Professor off of his feet, or she would have, had the laws of gravity applied to ghosts.

"Sorry, Professor!" Victoire called over her shoulder as she sputtered and dusted the feeling of ghost-chill off her am.

Professor Binns gave a short wave and disappeared through the back wall of his office.

"Vicky, wait!"

"Sawley," Victoire grunted as she hoisted her heavy leather shoulder bag higher onto her shoulder. "I do not, and will never, reply to a name as _common_ as _Vicky._"

Kip grinned, catching up to her easily with his long strides. "Whatever you say, Vicky."

"No!" Victoire quickly swung around, pulling out her wand and pressing it firmly into Kips's chest as he backed away. "Do not. Call me that. Ever. Again."

"_Ms. Weasley_."

Victoire sighed and released Kip from her wand's vice grip. "Hullo, Professor Longbottom."

Neville sighed. "You can leave, Mr. Sawley."

Kip grunted and continued down the hallway, glancing back at the two more than once on his retreat.

"Walk with me, Victoire." Neville said, gesturing in the direction that would take them to the Great Hall.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Neville, but he's a great git and I wouldn't care if he-

"I know, Victoire, and as someone who knows you as a friend I applaud your response to the 'great git', as you called him. But as your professor…"

"I know, I know." Victoire huffed and fixed her shoulder bag once more. She really should have picked a lighter load this morning.

Neville clasped her shoulder as they stood at the doors of the Great Hall. "It's your last year, Victoire, and as your Uncle, your Professor, your Head of House, and the Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts, I'm proud of you. But please, for Merlin's sake, let's have it be a peaceful one, alright?"

Victoire nodded. She hadn't proved to be a rotten student yet, and she wasn't going to start now, as long as no one gave her any reason to.

* * *

**Hello everyone! Hope you're enjoying it so far.**


	4. Chapter Three : Lineage

**Chapter Three**

**Hogwarts**

**September 8, 2017**

* * *

The first Friday of the term was welcomed with open arms by all who had survived it, namely every student save for one first-year Hufflepuff who had had the great luck of falling completely through the trick stair on the stairwell that formed a shortcut from the fourth floor to the second. Finding his inability to rid the school entirely of the step quite infuriating, Professor Longbottom visited the young Hufflepuff in the Hospital Wing. Neville had fallen prey to the step on several different occasions during his time as a student at Hogwarts, and so he knew the pain quite personally.

On his way from the Hospital Wing to the Great Hall, Neville stopped in the Entrance Hall to check on the house point totals. Nearing the end of the first week, the totals were dismal, but that was to be expected. Most house points interactions that happened during the first week were usually either scolding the older students for breaking rules they knew better than to break, like magic in the corridors, or rewarding first-years to give them a quick confidence boost to send them off into the rest of their first term. The houses were sitting nearly even, all around thirty points, with Hufflepuff in the lead by two. It was far too early to even venture a guess, though since Slytherin hadn't won the cup in nearly thirty years, the options were considerably narrowed.

Neville turned to make his entrance into the Great Hall, but stopped quickly as he heard some distant shouting. He walked over and glanced down the History of Magic corridor before sighing and continuing down it.

* * *

Victoire parted ways with her Head of House as they entered the Great Hall. She quickly scanned the nearly-empty Gryffindor table for a friendly or familial face before sitting down alone near the middle. She didn't mind being alone in most situations, but the Great Hall was a breeding ground for gossip and mild-mannered pranks on those sitting alone, and despite her status as a seventh year, she just didn't feel up to taking it all on. The doors to the Great Hall opened again and she looked up, hoping to see someone coming her way but instead locked eyes with Sawley, who returned her stare with eyebrows raised in defiance before turning his back and sitting at the Hufflepuff table. Victoire pulled a book out of her bag and gave it her full attention while waiting for everyone to arrive and dinner to be served. Fortunately, Victoire was pulled out of her reading a few minutes later by a loud HUMPH as someone sat down heavily across the table.

Eleanor Bones was a seventh-year Gryffindor, Keeper on the Quidditch team, Head Girl, and the only relatively good friend Victoire had ever made from her year. She sported the familial angular face and sand-colored hair, and had the largest eyes with the longest lashes Victoire had ever seen on a human. Eleanor was, in fact, quite beautiful.

"Bones, I'll thank you to practice a bit more charm and grace in my presence." Victoire said, hiding a grin behind the pages of her book.

Eleanor rolled her eyes. "Not today, my friend. Not today. Here it is, the first week of classes, and I've already been purposely tripped by a first-year Slytherin, had two prefects completely disregard my position, and then today of all days McGonagall stops me in the hallway to let me know that if I _disappoint _her with my authority, she'll reconsider the position for next term?"

"No!"

"Unprovoked!" Eleanor sighed, slumping against the table and resting her head on her hand. "I don't know about this seventh-year business, V. I don't know about it at all."

Victoire frowned as she put her book back in her bag and scooted it underneath the bench she was sitting on. "That sounds like a rotten week and I hate it for you."

The rest of the school was slowly streaming in, as it was well nearing time for the dishes to appear. Lucy, Anne, Molly, Louis, and James all entered the Great Hall together, but the latter two joined another group of Gryffindors further along the table. Louis gifted Victoire a jolting peck on the back of her head in passing. She casually waved along after him, but secretly appreciated the gesture of affection from her youngest sibling. _He must be in an extraordinary mood today_, Victoire thought, glancing down the table.

Frank Longbottom came in soon after and joined the four Weasley girls and Eleanor, kissing Eleanor on the lips as he sat down. "Hello Ellie, I haven't seen you since breakfast."

"Why Frank, I do believe you're forgetting that break before Charms when we went looking for my earring in the broom closet."

Frank laughed, his face flushing. "Right."

"And then, you know, Charms itself."

Frank rolled his eyes. "Riiiiight."

Victoire smiled. "Frank, you know I do believe it's time for you to defend Eleanor's honor."

Fred Weasley joined them at the table. "Who's run off with Ellie's honor this time? Ouch!" Fred frowned and rubbed the arm that Eleanor had punched for such a comment.

"Apparently, some first-year purposely tripped her earlier this week."

Fred's eyes widened. "A firstie with cobblers that large? Improbable. We'll have to nip that one in the bud quick-like."

"A _Slytherin_ first-year, no less." Victoire supplied.

Frank leaned back in his seat, guffawing. "Oh ho ho, we'll take care of it. You just point out this little git to us, love."

Eleanor sighed. "As Head Girl I cannot condone … whatever it is you've got planned."

"We're just offering him a little guidance, Elephant." Fred said as the food appeared and everyone began filling their plates.

Eleanor sighed at both the nickname and the excuse, but her reluctance to participate seemed to disappear as she turned to look across the room at the Slytherin table. After a few seconds of scanning, she turned back to her friends. "Easy. Fourth from the door on the far side of the table. Frizzy red hair."

Everyone looked up at once, even Anne, Lucy, and Molly who had been engrossed in their own conversation with a fourth-year boy named Leigh. As seven pairs of eyes locked in on the perpetrator and six mouths gasped "what?", Rose Weasley looked up from her Shepard's pie to see half of her family members staring at her in disbelief from across the Great Hall.

* * *

"SLYTHERIN!"

Rose's heart lurched, seemingly looking for the nearest exit. Face flushing, Rose stood up and made her way to the Slytherin table. Despite the sudden clamor coming from the rest of the students about a _Weasley_ in _Slytherin_, Rose only heard her father's voice in her head. _Any house but Slytherin, Rosie. We'll disown you if you're in Slytherin._ She was going to have to have a word with Uncle Harry. She had practically begged the sorting hat to place her anywhere but Slytherin, but it didn't seem to appreciate the severity of her wish.

Rose sat down, feeling the rest of the Slytherin house watching her carefully. Rose looked down at the empty table space in front of her, not daring to look over at the Gryffindor table.

"It's alright," a voice whispered from across the table as the sorting ended. "_I_ was supposed to be in Ravenclaw." The girl was small and bony with a pale face, straight black hair and almond shaped eyes.

Rose looked up from behind the long red hair that had fallen in front of her eyes. "What d'you mean?"

"All my family's in Ravenclaw. Not a single witch or wizard's been placed elsewhere in over two hundred years." The girl grinned. "My mum always said I was a trendsetter."

This made Rose feel a little better, but by a small margin.

"I was supposed to be in Gryffindor." Rose whispered, not wanting any other housemates to hear her. Her new friend nodded.

"I know. You're a Weasley. You're all in Gryffindor."

"Not all of us," Rose sat up straight, suddenly feeling defensive. "My cousin Dominique is in Ravenclaw. She's a fifth-year. And my cousin Albus just got sorted in today."

Rose was shushed by a nearby prefect. Headmistress McGonagall was finally at the podium.

"My sincere apologies for the delay. Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts!" The student body cheered. "I imagine you're all quite famished, so I'll leave you to it shortly. But first, a reminder: no one's to leave the hall before the end of the feast, as the house-elves are still graciously taking care of everyone's belongings, and there's a few announcements to be made. Cheers!" McGonagall stepped away from the podium and sat back down at the professors' table.

As the din slowly rose to a normal volume, Rose looked back at her new friend, clearly to resume their earlier conversation, but the girl spoke first.

"Eliza Krane," she said, offering her hand across the table. Rose took it and shook it firmly. "Rose Weasley."

The two girls smiled.

After the feast and McGonagall's yearly announcements, the Slytherin prefect who had shushed Rose and Eliza stood and motioned for the first-years to do the same. "First-years, this way. I'll show you to the dungeons."

Rose gulped. She had heard legends upon legends about the Gryffindor tower, the Ravenclaw tower, and the Hufflepuff basement next to the kitchen, but never had she thought to ask about the Slytherin dungeons. A group of eight first-years followed the Slytherin prefect across the Entrance Hall and down a small flight of spiral stairs until they reached a solid stone wall.

"Black Bat." The wall gave way, stone by stone, to a short corridor, which lead out into the Slytherin common room.

The Slytherin common room was a miniature version of the Great Hall – long and narrow, with high ceilings reaching two or three stories above – except there were no tables, and everything was dark sculpted stone and beautiful, ancient wallpapers. The main seating area was a group of low-backed black leather couches centered around a towering fireplace, but there were smaller sitting circles and reading areas with plush black fur carpets and solid floating bubbles that gave off a soft yellow light. The rest of the light, however, gave a green tinge to the room as it came from the demanding windows on the far side of the room, which Rose slowly realized gave a relaxing view of the lake, but from underneath its surface. The glass wasn't clear – Rose ventured that it might have been made out of sea-glass – so it looked thick and threw the light around the room in soft flashes with the lake's waves.

"Are we under the lake?" a boy asked as they all stood in a group near the middle of the common room.

"Yes," the prefect replied, "the Slytherin common room and dormitories all stretch out underneath the lake. You'll find that the seventh-year dormitories are the furthest out there, providing the older students with a panoramic view of the bottom of the lake."

Rose and Eliza looked at each other with widened eyes, but the prefect continued. "The password changes each fortnight, and will be posted on the bulletin over _there. _I suggest you not forget it, as you will learn that not every older Slytherin takes kindly to first and second years, _especially _when they've forgotten the password. The girls' dormitory is on the left and the boys' on the right." She pointed to two small staircases on either side of the hall. "Your dormitories will be found inside of the first doors on both hallways. Curfew is at nine o'clock sharp for your first term, but changes to ten in your second. If you've got any further questions, don't be afraid to find me." And with that, the nameless prefect made her way up the stairs to the girls' dormitory.

The group stayed congealed for a few moments until each student decided to do some further exploration. Eliza and Rose followed two other first-year girls up the short staircase to a long hallway, entering the first door on the right that sported the number one hanging on a nail. Rose, forgetting her earlier anxieties about being in Slytherin, gasped as she entered the dorm room. She thought the common room (and even the hallway – with the stone walls and wooden doors on one side and an entirely sea-glass wall on the other, another window to the lake stretching the entire length of the hall) was beautiful, but it paled in comparison to her new sleeping quarters. It was a large, square room, with the same tall sea-glass windows and sculpted stonework on the walls and columns (mainly depictions of snakes.) There was a large window seat in the middle of the far wall, piled with pillows and blankets to cushion the cold stone it was carved from. The beds were sturdy four-posters, but the mattresses sat only an inch off of the ground and the curtains were make of silk the same shade of green that emanated from the windows, bordered with the darker Slytherin green and silver. While the four beds in the room were generously spaced for privacy, and the ceilings seemed to reach into the heavens (quite literally – the ceilings here sported the same enchantment as on the ceiling of the Great Hall), the room didn't feel cold or unwelcoming. There were thick satin rugs laid sporadically around the room and beside the beds, and Rose suspected a warming charm at work. After what seemed like hours of gazing at the calming beauty of it, Rose turned to Eliza and their two other roommates.

"This is bloody _amazing_." She said bluntly, and the three other girls agreed.

Eliza introduced herself first. "I'm Eliza Krane. What are your names?" She asked, locating her trunk and opening it.

The blonde girl spoke first. "I'm Persephone Greengrass, but Persephone is cumbersome. Everyone but my gran calls me Percie."

Rose kicked off her shoes and climbed onto her bed across from Eliza's. "I've got an Uncle Percy."

Percie giggled and curtsied. "Uncle Percie, at your service." Everyone laughed.

"I'm Pippa Zabini." The last girl said in a small voice. She had coarse black hair and a small button nose. She was unpacking her trunk as well, setting her nightstand up and stocking her drawers with clothes and unmentionables.

"Zabini?" Eliza asked, pausing and turning to the girl. "Is your father's name Blaise?"

Pippa nodded. "Yeah, why?"

Eliza smiled. "I've heard my mum talk about your dad, I think. He asked her to the Yule Ball their fourth year."

"Sounds like dad."

"Did everyone's parents come to Hogwarts?" Percie asked.

Rose nodded, but stayed silent. She wondered if the rest of the first years were discussing familial lineage as they unpacked their trunks, or if this was a particularly Slytherin practice. It felt formal and potentially calulative, so Rose was leaning towards the latter.

Percie closed her trunk, seemingly done with unpacking for now, and sat on top of it. "My mum was a Slytherin too."

"What about your Dad?" Rose asked.

"He didn't go to Hogwarts."

"Oh wow. Of course I'm glad to have come to Hogwarts, but after hearing all of the stories I feel like I've already experienced it. It would have been amazing to go to somewhere like Beauxbatons."

Percie stayed silent, but Pippa spoke up again.

"My mum was a Slytherin too. Tracey Davis was her name, then. What about you, Eliza?"

"My mum was a Ravenclaw, Cho Chang. She married a muggle, though, and my grandparents weren't too happy about it. They were happy when I got my letter. They were afraid I'd be a squib."

Percie grinned and looked over at Rose. "Well, Weasley?"

Rose groaned and flopped over onto her back. "I'm a Weasley, isn't that information enough?"

"There are a _lot_ of Weasleys." Pippa quipped.

Rose sighed. "My mum's Hermione Granger and my dad's Ron Weasley."

Percie gasped. "We didn't realize you were _that _kind of Weasley!"

"And what does that mean?" Rose rolled off her bed frowning.

"It means _Hermione Granger _was your mum. And _Ron Weasley_ was your dad." Eliza explained, "Harry Potter, the Golden Trio? Do you not know how many history books they've been written into?"

Rose relaxed a bit and shrugged. "It's just mum and dad and Uncle Harry to me."

Eliza laughed, collapsing onto her bed. "Oh Rose, so modest."

"The entirety of our mum and dad's generation fought in that war, Eliza. It's hard to find someone whose parents weren't a war hero."

Pippa and Percie stiffened, glancing at each other quickly and then looking down at their feet.

"You forget the company you're in, Rose."

Rose flushed. "Right. Sorry, I didn't mean anything by it."

Percie shrugged one shoulder and shook out her ponytail. "S'alright. Things are different, now. None of us are our parents."

Eliza grinned. "Definitely not." And Rose agreed.

* * *

Rose awoke to find her roommates already up, quietly moving around to get dressed. She smiled as she heard the same wooshing noise coming from the lake against the window that had lulled her to sleep. Even if the big picture of being in Slytherin was still causing her to worry, at least she felt calm and happy in her dorm room with her new friends. Rose sat up in bed and yawned.

"Good morning, sleepyhead. We were about to wake you, it's almost time for breakfast."

Rose fell back onto her pillow and rubbed her eyes, momentarily thrown off by the politeness everyone in the room was showing her. While Hugo was a milder demon to deal with, she often spent nights with her cousins who showed very little respect for the sleeping after they woke up.

When she realized the other girls were nearly ready to leave, she shot out of bed, grabbed a towel from her trunk and screamed "Ten minutes! Just wait ten minutes!" before running into the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later found the foursome entering the Slytherin common room, only to merge with the first-year delegation from the boy's dorms.

"Morning, Zabini." said a white-haired boy that Rose knew to be Scorpius Malfoy. He had stark white hair like his father, a pinched nose and something Rose could only refer to as a "butt chin."

"Hullo, Malfoy." Pippa replied.

Rose and Eliza followed behind as the others continued towards the rock wall that held the exit from the common room.

"Malfoy is possibly the ugliest creature I've ever seen." Eliza whispered.

Rose giggled.

The eight new Slytherins chatted their way through breakfast as if they had known each other for centuries. Near the end, Professor Bullstrode, the Slytherin Head of House, came walking down the table, handing out the term's timetables.

"What've we got, Rose?" Percie asked as Rose was the first out of the bunch to receive hers.

"Potions first with Gryffindor, and then Defense Against the Dark Arts with Ravenclaw after lunch."

"Just two today, then?" asked a boy named Peter Flint.

"Right," Percie answered, now looking at her own. "Then tomorrow we'll have Charms and History of Magic. Wednesday's a load of bullocks, we've got Potions, Herbology, Flying, _and _Astronomy!"

Scorpius smirked. "I've got no need for that flying class."

"Don't be an arse, Malfoy." Pippa replied quickly, not looking up from her breakfast. "Nearly everyone's been on a broom before."

Peter and the boy sitting beside him, Argo Bletchley, glanced at each other and grinned.

Scorpius frowned at Pippa. "And what's up your arse today, Madam Zabini? Mad your house elf's not here to feed you breakfast with a silver spoon?"

Pippa raised her head and glared at Scorpius for a long while before returning to her breakfast. Everyone remained silent, and Rose made a mental note to never put herself on the receiving end of Pippa Zabini's glare.

Three hours later, Rose found herself huddled over a steaming cauldron of purple goop with Eliza, hair frizzing visibly by the second, faces staring concernedly into the pot. They jumped with a start as their professor spoke for the first time in the class.

"You'll find that if you followed the directions written precisely on the board, your potion should be a clear yellow broth at this stage." Professor Bullstrode walked up and down the isle tsking as she looked into each pot. When she got to a pair of Gryffindors consisting of Tabitha Brown and Sarah Lane, she stopped.

"This is truly remarkable." Professor Bullstrode commented as Rose groaned. The purple puss in the cauldron in front of her was starting to undulate. "I've never seen such a simple set of directions so carelessly disregarded. Tell me, Ms. Brown, what brought you to the conclusion that _batfly wings_ would be a nice addition to the potion primer that I asked for?"

Everyone's heads quickly snapped to look in the direction of the Gryffindor, whose face was flushed as red as the Gryffindor banner.

"I wasn't a-aware, P-Professor. I thought I added in lacewig."

"Lacewig is a plant. Batfly wings are part of the anatomy of a batfly."

"Professor, the vials in the storage cabinet weren't labeled, we just assumed-

"Ms. Lane, this was a test, and you have failed. Two points from Gryffindor." Half the students groaned.

Eliza stirred the cauldron once more, looking over at Rose worriedly. Professor Bullstrode slowly made her way over to their table. Rose hoped that Professor Bullstrode was of the old Slytherin variety, just this one time, and only took out her aggressions on the Gryffindors. Hopefully her father wasn't lying about _that _Slytherin trait.

"Ms. Weasley, Ms. Krane. Which one of you sneezed earlier?"

Eliza slowly raised her hand.

"Let this be a lesson in the exactitude of potions making. Undoubtedly part of your sneeze was directed into the potion, rendering it unusable. You might want to clear it away before it advances any further. I wouldn't want to clean up what's coming next if I were you."

Eliza and Rose looked wide-eyed into their cauldron, whose contents were now changing colors rapidly and bubbling wildly.

"Bugger." Eliza whispered, sitting back on the bench. "I think we're about to be covered in purple snot." She quickly turned off the flame underneath the cauldron.

And within seconds, they were.

* * *

Pippa Zabini had been raised classically, or so her Grandmother called it. At age four she began piano and lessons in ballet, and by age ten she was fluent in French and Arabic. Strict control over Pippa's early education had been an unspoken gift to her paternal grandmother from her parents after her father married a white witch from Liverpool. Pippa sometimes pulled out the family photo album to look at the first extended family photo with her mother in it – a small white speck in a sea of dark black skin. She inevitably looked out of place. But skin color was not what her grandmother had been objecting to. The Zabinis came from a long line of dark skinned Mediterranean witches and wizards, mainly located in Italy but a few (like Pippa's grandmother) hailed from the northern coast of Morocco. The Zabini clan held claim to one of the oldest and purest bloodlines in the wizarding world, reaching as far back as the Egyptians and the cradle of civilization. Pippa's mother, Tracey Davis, was surely pure-blooded, but her branch of the tree was snubbed as "new magic." Somewhere along the tree, they had split off from the imitable House of Bones.

So while Pippa was raised in high Wizarding society on the coattails of her grandparents and sent home at night to a warm home and coddling parents, she slowly rubbed away at the façade that the pureblooded families had thrown up at the end of the Second Wizarding War with Voldemort. Underneath their new inclusive platform lay years of rot and Pippa had spent enough time around it for that rot to become a part of her. She _knew _that blood status didn't a good wizard make, but she also _knew_ that family history was still relevant, and class was still important. So when Pippa made friends with Percie at the age of eight, and her grandmother disapproved, Pippa was confused. Percie had private tutors, came from an older wizarding family (her cousin was _Scorpius Malfoy_ for Merlin's sake), and never embarrassed her parents in public. In private, Percie and Pippa got along famously, and so she thought surely she had made a great match. She never really understood her grandmother's disapproval of Percie, but she reasoned it had something to do with her father's absence. As long as Ms. Greengrass _said_ he'd been a pureblooded wizard from northern Africa, it didn't matter who it was, right? Having a child out of marriage with the right person mattered less than having a child with the wrong sort. Pippa was sure of it, and so the friendship continued.

At lunch that day Pippa and Percie sat in confidence with Eliza Krane and Rose Weasley, their roommates. They were company her grandmother would have approved even less of (blood traitors and half bloods) but Pippa didn't mind. She felt much freer under the roof of Hogwarts.

Pippa had barely sat down when Eliza clapped her hands and emitted a short squeal. "I'm SO glad you're all here. I must tell you – I'm in love."

Pippa stared at the young girl across the table with a blank face. "In love."

"Yes, in love. Hopelessly. I tried for a horribly long time to not be, but it's unavoidable."

Percie snorted, stirring her rice pudding. "It's Monday." Rose and Pippa laughed, but Eliza frowned.

"I swear, if this is how this friendship is going to work, I'm not for it! I'll leave right now and for the next seven years the dormitory will be an awkward and silent place to be!" Eliza pushed away from the table and made to stand up, but Rose clasped a hand over hers on the edge of the table.

"Eliza, please, we're sorry," Rose said, still grinning.

Eliza rolled her eyes. "You look it." She sat back down despite the absence of sincerity.

"Do tell us who it is," Percie took a bite of her pudding and looked up smugly. "so we can row this boat along."

Ignoring her friends' disbelief once gain, Eliza turned to look at the Gryffindor table. "He's sitting over there with the shaggy black hair."

Rose turned around as well. "At the Gryffindor table? _Please _don't tell me you're talking about James. He's my cousin! He's wretched."

"No no no no no," Eliza smiled dreamily, turning back to her friends. "his name is Frank. Frank Longbottom."

Rose sighed, dropping her head hard against the table as Pippa and Percie strained their necks to get a better view.

"The one sitting next to the blondes and red heads? Merlin, he's surrounded by women. He looks quite older, too. Bad luck that is, Eliza."

"He's _dating _that blonde. His father is also our Herbology teacher." Rose explained, sitting back up on the bench to eat the rest of her lunch.

"Professor Longbottom, really?" Percie tilted her head to one side, looking quite contemplative. "I guess it makes sense, same name and all."

Pippa looked sideways at her best friend in wonder. Finally, "I always knew you had some smarts in there, Perce."

"Sod off, Pipalina."

The two girls grinned, but Eliza was suddenly in a state of panic.

"He's _seeing _someone?"

Rose nodded. "Her name is Eleanor. She's Head Girl, I'm quite certain she's good friends with my cousin Victoire."

"We have to get rid of her."

"Eliz-"

"No! I have a plan." Percie leaned in, looking sinful. "I'm quite good with plans."

Rose and Pippa groaned, sliding out of their seats and making an early start to the first Defense Against the Dark Arts hour of the term.

* * *

The excitement of the DADA lesson far surpassed the level of their potions class earlier that day. They were beginning right off the bat with a workshop in beginner's dueling, which everyone found fascinating. Rose stunned a dummy target three times out of her four tries, which was two more than most of the rest of the class excluding Pippa.

On their way back to the dungeons before dinner, Eliza and Pippa popped into the toilet, leaving Percie and Rose lingering in the hallway outside.

"So, Rosie, how do you reckon our first day of schooling has gone? Let's rate it, one through ten. You go first."

Rose thought for a moment, leaning her side on the wall. "I suppose this morning, waking up, was about a two, but breakfast was stellar so I'll give it an eight. Potions was a firm four, lunch was about an eight as well, and Defense Against the Dark Arts was a definite nine. I'll round it off at a solid five or six, which is as good as any first-year could hope, really."

Percie laughed. "You gave both mealtimes the second highest scores."

Rose shrugged and laughed. "What can I say, I appreciate the culinary arts."

"Right. Okay then, I'm going to give it a seven, because nothing went horribly wrong besides getting splashed with a few of Eliza's manufactured bogies, and the shower in our room has _excellent_ water pressure."

"It's like magic, right?" Rose smiled.

"Right. Like magic."

The two laughed for a moment until they heard students coming down the intersecting hallway. Hearing something that piqued her interest, Percie leaned around Rose and the corner to get a better look at who was coming. As her face re-entered Rose's line of vision it sported a highly suspicious grin.

"What?"

"Rose Weasley, are you ready to be _the best friend ever_?"

Rose looked skeptically back at Percie. "What are you-"

"There isn't much of a choice. Get ready to run!"

Rose sputtered and moved back against the wall as Percie lunged forward and slid her foot into the hallway as an unsuspecting someone came around it, tripping over Percie and landing with a hard thud. Before Rose knew what was going on or who was splayed around her feet, Percie silently disappeared into the loo behind them.

Rose looked down at the sandy-haired girl who was now looking back up at her with a very, very large frown on her face. "What in the bloody hell- hey! Where're you going off to! Come back! I'm Head Girl, you can't just-"

But Rose was gone, sprinting down the hall and into the dungeons.

"Fifteen points from Slytherin!" Eleanor screamed at the quickly vanishing first-year.


	5. Chapter Four : Hogsmeade

**Chapter Four**

**Hogsmeade**

**September 23, 2017**

**warning: sexual harassment, sexual violence**

* * *

Teddy Lupin squinted into the mirror. He searched around for something to wipe the grime off to clear up his reflection. Grabbing the closest piece of dirty laundry, he rubbed an acceptable portion of the mirror clean and leaned back, sighing at his reflection. His skin was a pale grey and his bony heart-shaped face was looking even more tired than usual. He groaned in frustration, starting up a shower and stripping down to the bare necessities. He was looking more and more like his father with each day, particularly so on days when he woke with the more vicious hangovers, like today. Each time he went home to his grandmother, she regarded him harshly. "You're looking more and more like Remus, Teddy, and that's not a good thing. He had an excuse to look on the edge of death – what's yours?" There were times when he threw out retorts that undoubtedly tore at her heart a little, but they always tasted bitter on his tongue. Stepping into the shower, Teddy scrubbed every inch of his body with a threadbare washcloth and danced around a bit as the water routinely shifted from scalding to lukewarm to freezing. He never remembered to look up a spell to fix his ruddy pipes until he was enduring their inefficiencies. He stepped out, studying himself again in the mirror, but noticing little change.

_Bloody hell,_ Teddy thought, _Victoire is going to kill me_. He morphed his body slightly, hoping Victoire wouldn't notice, trying to look a little healthier. He put a little shine to his raven black hair and color in his cheeks. He didn't often use his powers as a metamorphmagus to perform such subtle transformations, but the skill still came in handy.

A short hour later Teddy found himself sitting on a familiar stool in a bar he knew all to well in Hogsmeade. He waited patiently in The Three Broomsticks for Victoire, who was usually never late and always early. He decided to chat up Madam Longbottom while he waited. Hannah Longbottom was a sweet little witch, married to the Deputy Headmaster at Hogwarts but not looking a day over twenty.

"I haven't seen you in a while, Lupin," Hannah walked over and rested her forearms on the counter, leaning closer to her customer. "what's it been, four, five months?"

Teddy shrugged after downing a glass of mead. "Sounds about right. Haven't been back around since graduation." He was suddenly regretting his decision to _chat_.

The witch raised her eyebrows. "What've you been up to, then?"

Teddy shrugged again, pushing his glass forward for a refill. "This." was his only reply, which caused the barmaid to pour this second glass a little slower, keeping a steady gaze locked with Lupin's. Teddy was shortly rescued from a conversation that had the potential to be quite vexing when two thin hands wrapped around his head and clamped over his eyes. He didn't bother with guessing games and simply twirled the barstool around, catching Victoire by surprise and pulling her in close.

"Hullo," he said, hovering his mouth millimeters away from the blonde's.

"Hi," she replied, closing the gap. The two embraced longer than most would in public, but Victoire pulled away when she could feel her cheeks flushing.

"I missed you," Teddy slid his arms around her waist and rested them there. "No one told me how utterly _boring_ life after Hogwarts can be if your favorite person hasn't graduated yet."

"I'm your favorite person now am I?" Victoire grinned slyly.

Teddy frowned. "I was talking about Fred, you dolt."

Victoire nodded smugly, her agreement laced with sarcasm. "Oh, right, of course." She slipped out of his grasp and climbed up onto a stool next to him, picking up his half-empty glass of mead. "Is this your first?" she asked before she took a large gulp. Teddy's eyes darted towards Madam Longbottom who was lingering nearby. "Yeah," he lied, "Just got here a moment ago, actually."

Victoire set the large mug down with both hands, licking a line of mead off her top lip and grinning. "I know we've been writing, but it's not the same as being able to see your face."

"Yes, your face is quite aesthetically pleasing as well."

Victoire felt like she would never stop smiling. "So, how did the last interview go? Am I talking to the Wizengamot's newest court attendant?"

Teddy cleared his throat, swiveling back and forth on the stool a bit before answering. "I didn't make it to the interview."

"Teddy!"

"I know, I just-"

"How could you just not go?"

"I didn't just not go I was just too-"

"Hungover? You were too drunk to apparate your arse out of bed to get to the first decent job interview you've had in months?"

Teddy glared, his eyes and the tips of his hair flashing a dazzling red. "Don't start in on me, we just got here."

"I wouldn't start in on you if I could count on you to start in on yourself. This is what I was afraid of."

Victoire didn't back down from her icy glare and Teddy's face didn't lighten. The two sat in stony silence for over a minute. Finally Teddy shook his head.

"I told you, you didn't have to say it back until you meant it. I didn't force you into this."

Victoire slumped, resting a hand on Teddy's leg. "I meant it, Teddy, and I don't regret saying it, no matter how long it took me to come around. I've always loved you, I've just been-

"Cautious. Scared. Skeptical. Of getting close to an orphaned son of a werewolf with no prospects in life."

Victoire drew her hand back. "It's not fair to be self deprecating in this kind of conversation, Ted."

"Then maybe we shouldn't have this conversation."

Victoire's eyes widened but her reply was interrupted as the door to the bar blew open and a large group of students entered.

"Teddy!" James yelled as he walked into the bar, rushing over to the couple to say hello. "What brings you around here? Surely not this wretched cousin of mine."

Teddy gave a small smile before patting the younger boy on the arm in greeting. "How's life, James?"

"Life is great, my friend. Fred, Frank, Louis and I were about to go over and see the uncles, do you two want to come?" James' eyes sparkled. Growing up, Teddy was like a big brother to him and he still had lingering admiration for the boy.

Teddy nodded. "Sure, we'll tag along." Victoire rolled her eyes behind him.

As the threesome left the bar to meet the others in front of the Hogsmeade branch of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, Victoire pushed past Teddy to get out the door. "You're a coward, Teddy Lupin." She growled loud enough for only his ears. Teddy leaned back with a softly stunned attitude, his piercing eyes following the blonde witch as she trotted down the street with her cousins. He took a moment before he continued on, slamming the bar's thin wooden door hard behind him.

* * *

"Boys!" Ron Weasley popped out from the back room and stood behind the counter to greet his nephews. "How is the term treating you?"

"Hey Uncle Ron." they chorused, coming up to the counter.

Fred craned his neck to see into the storage room. "Is Dad in?"

Ron shook his head, "Went out for lunch three hours ago, the bloody bastard. I told him if I was going part-time in my Auror position to come run his shop by myself while he lounged around, he'd have it coming."

Fred laughed. "If mum's running Diagon Alley today he's probably just popped in on her."

Ron paused, looked pensive. "I suppose he did mention something about checking in on London later on."

The boys laughed.

Teddy finally caught up with the group and waltzed in the shop.

"Teddy!" Ron called out, raising a hand in hello. "Where've you been, mate?"

Teddy smiled at the older wizard he had come to know as a half father-figure, half mischief mate.

James jumped in. "He and Victoire have been having a row, as usual."

Teddy slapped James on the back of the head. "Have not. Say, where's she gone off to anyway?"

The boys shrugged. "She was following but she wasn't with us by the time we got to the end of the lane."

Teddy frowned, glancing around the store. "I guess I'll go off and find her. I'll see you lot soon enough."

The boys waved and engaged Ron in a conversation about the newest product that was sitting near the front of the store, Mysterious Midnight Moon Madness.

Teddy paused in front of the shop and scanned the area. He ducked into a few of the surrounding shops, looking around and asking people if they'd seen a platinum blonde walk by recently, but found no good luck. A good half-hour later he sat down on a bench not too far from the joke shop, head in hands. Finally he took a deep breath and sat up but then jumped slightly backwards in his seat, startled by the close proximity someone was standing to him. He relaxed quickly.

"Victoire."

"Teddy I'm only going to say this once-

"Please don't, I know you're just-

"Would you listen?" Victoire's voice was slightly heightened, and her face was contorted in the oddest of frowns. Teddy realized she was trying not to cry.

"Okay." He calmly rested his hands in his lap.

Victoire took a deep breath, waiting for a group of school-aged witches passed by. Finally, she opened her mouth again. "I'm sorry for pushing you. I realize that by dating me you haven't entered into any kind of contract to get your life together, and as that was never the deal, it's unfair for me to hold you to any kind of expectations regarding your career. However," She took another deep breath, looked down and started fiddling with her rings. "Once I'm out of Hogwarts I can't imagine myself being with someone who doesn't have purpose in their life, and I love you so so much, I really do," She looked down into his eyes then, "but I just need to give you that heads up, that I won't feel comfortable dating someone who hasn't the same … goals as I do when I'm graduated. I can't-" Victoire broke off, visibly upset.

Teddy quickly assessed his emotions, but came back empty handed. He didn't know quite how he was feeling, but as this obviously wasn't a time to be rash, he stood up, taking a hold of Victoire's elbows.

"Victoire. When I say that I'm in love with you, I'm in love with all of you, and I mean that. I can handle the pushy, and I can handle the controlling." Victoire bristled at the implication, but stayed silent. "Obviously, I know what I need to be doing, but life since graduation has been weird and uncertain and I don't like it. What I can't handle is you saying that you were afraid of this, that you saw this coming and ignored your own warnings." He let go of her and shoved his hands in his jean pockets. "What I can't handle is you telling me that you saw me heading down the road to nothing from day one. It's devastating to hear that you think I don't have any potential."

The two stood in silence, staring at the ground. Finally,

"I never said you didn't have potential. I just, I don't know, implied that you weren't living up to it."

Teddy shrugged. "To me, that's the same thing."

Victoire nodded, purposely scuffing her boots in the gravel. "Well, I'm sorry that I hurt you."

"You could never hurt me, you're so wimpy-looking." Victoire yanked her head up to look at Teddy with a gaping mouth to find that he was grinning.

"You pasty little wanker." Victoire took a step closer to Teddy, her hands resting firmly on her hips. He stepped up to her as well, cupping the back of her head and bringing her in for a soft kiss. They were still standing there when James, Louis, Fred, and Frank left the shop.

"Oh, gross." Louis groaned, looking away from his eldest sister. "Can you not."

Teddy pulled away from Victoire, smiling. "Can we not what? Oh, this?" He and Victoire proceeded to make out messily, exaggerating for their audience. James and Louis made noises while Fred and Frank chuckled at the younger boys.

Victoire and Teddy separated after a good thirty seconds of the performance, and Victoire leaned sideways to glance in a store window at her reflection, smoothing out her hair. "Louis," she called at her retreating brother, "what do you suppose we should get Dad for his birthday. It's coming up next week and we might as well get it together."

"I don't know a book or something." Louis seemed to be preoccupied with discussing the contents of a purple shopping bag with three large W's emblazoned on it with James. The pair had their backs turned to the rest of the group, obviously plotting in secret.

Victoire's arms fell to her side in exasperation and she sighed. "Louis I literally don't know what you're going to do when I'm not around to guide you."

Fred laughed, clapping his oldest cousin on the back. "Oh mon dieu, Victoire. I do believe we can offer our assistance so you can unload a little bit, right Frank?"

Frank smirked, "Probably."

The two friends lifted a screaming Victoire above their heads and carried her down the pathway further into the village with Teddy following behind gleefully, dodging curses flying from his girlfriend's wand. Several minutes later, Louis and James looked up, unaware as to where their cousins had disappeared to. They walked down the lane in search of them.

Victoire was finally put down as they reached The Three Broomsticks. She straightened her clothes and looked, both fuming and amused, at her cousin and her friend. "I swear on Merlin's arse I'm going to kill all of you." The three boys surrounding her had already collapsed into laughter, Teddy leaning against the side of the bar's storefront clutching his side. James and Louis joined them, looking quizzically at the group for a second before ignoring them entirely and greeting the person who had just walked up behind them.

"Uncle George!"

George Weasley had just arrived back to the village via the public fireplaces at the end of the lane past the Hog's Head. "Hullo, everyone." George said, giving his son a quick hug and grinning at the rest.

"Have you been to London?" Fred asked.

George nodded. "Verity's out on holiday and your mum's not used to keeping the shop by herself so I went to check in. I'd have sent Ron over for the day but Merlin knows he's been working with me for three years now and still hasn't gotten the hang of things, the dolt. Then again he's never really been the smartest-

George was cut off as muffled screams reached the group's ears. Everyone was silent, listening for more, but there was nothing. George was about to continue insulting his younger brother when they distinctly heard a cry for help. Everyone pulled out their wands. The village street was busy today, and people around them seemed to hear the screams as well, but no one could pinpoint the sound.

Louis' eyes snapped to Victoire's. "Why does that sound like Dominique."

"It does, doesn't it. Have you seen her today?"

Louis shook his head. Hearing the screams again, George stepped forward.

"Alright, Victoire, Frank, Teddy, you and I'll search this way, James, Louis, Fred, go in that way. Search everywhere, alleys, cellars, anything. If you find her, send for us."

The group split paths. Victoire and Teddy headed down the alley on one side of the bar as George and Frank went down the other side, the two pairs meeting in the back with nothing to show for the run. They heard another scream, this time closer, and this time they were sure of where it was coming from. To Victoire's surprise, Frank was the fastest, running off ahead of the others in the direction of what she was now sure of being her younger sister's screams.

The foursome rounded a curve in the lineup of buildings and turned sharply into the last, longest alleyway between two shops. The group froze. To their horror, they found Dominique halfway down the alley, hidden from the main street by a small wooden storage shed, pinned up against the brick wall by a haggard looking wizard. He held his wand to the side of her throat as he messed with something between them.

Frank bolted. Charging the man from behind, Frank knocked the wizard onto the ground and stepped on his wand hand, firmly twisting his foot on top of the man's fist. Victoire rushed to her sister's side as she crumpled to the ground and her attacker screamed in pain. George was nearly instantly at Frank's side, hauling the now obviously intoxicated wizard to his feet and slamming him into the wall opposite them, screaming into his face. Frank stood in the middle of the alleyway fuming, glaring daggers at the pathetic man before turning to Dominique who was huddled in the embrace of her older sister. He crouched down in front of the pair and spoke gently.

"What do you need?"

"My wand," Dominique whispered, her strawberry blonde hair falling into her face. "he has it."

Frank turned again to George and the animated heap of garbage that had attacked Dominique. "Where's her wand?" he demanded, getting into the man's face. The cowering man glanced over in front of the storage shed, where Dominique's wand lay in pieces. Frank slowly turned his head back to the man and spat on him. Victoire, who was comforting and shielding her sister, glanced up at the men quickly. She was surprised by Frank's anger. Teddy, who had gone to get the others and evidently Ron, rounded the corner with the rest of them. Ron wasn't on duty but was still an auror and was better equipped to handle these kinds of situations. Victoire was thankful for Teddy's foresight to grab him. George handed the man over to Ron and turned to assess the situation with Dominique, but first he once more pulled out his wand. Wordlessly, he conjured his patronus, which turned out to be not one but two small silver elephants. They came towards him and stopped less than an inch from his face, trunks raised high and mouths open. He whispered into their mouths, which Victoire had seen her parents and older relatives do many times before as this was one of their auxiliary forms of communication. After a moment, the patronus slipped away and around the corner of the stationary shop. Victoire watched it leap across the empty field behind the village and away into the forest, nearly faster than light itself.

"Victoire," Dominique said softly, and Victoire's attention snapped back to her sister. "Will you please walk with me back to the castle."

Victoire helped her sister up from the ground where they had been sitting. "Of course."

Ron had since apparated the man to, presumably, the ministry where he would be charged. The group walked protectively around Dominique to the nearby Hogsmeade station, where a carriage was waiting to take students back to Hogwarts as they tired from their day in Hogsmeade. Fortunately, only one other student was looking to get back to the castle just then.

Having been one of the recipients of George's patronus, Neville waited for the group with Headmistress McGonagall at the front entrance of the castle, where the carriage stopped and the silent bunch filed out. McGonagall stepped forward, her face marked with concern.

"Ms. Weasley, my sincerest apologies for your terrible experience in Hogsmeade. Please, if your siblings will escort you to the Hospital Wing I'd like it if you would check in with Madam Wainscott before you head back to the tower. I'm sure some people will have questions to ask of you, but first comes your health and safety."

The three siblings nodded and silently continued into the castle.

"As for the rest of you, fifty points a piece to Gryffindor for your admirable assistance. If you will proceed into the Great Hall you will find the house elves have left dinner for those who do not choose to eat in Hogsmeade."

Frank's face darkened. "It wasn't admirable, Professor, it was simply the only option."

Neville reached a hand out to his son and clasped his shoulder. "Go eat, Frank."

Frank shrugged his father's hand off and followed Fred and James into the castle.

George sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "It was bloody awful, I'll tell you that. I haven't seen a wizard act that way since …." George trailed off, finding it unnecessary to repeat actions seen and heard of during the last war with Voldemort to two people who had lived through the war themselves.

It was silent for a moment, before McGonagall turned to Teddy, who was standing awkwardly apart from the three adults. "How are you, Teddy? What brings you to Hogsmeade?"

George clapped his younger friend on the back. "Here to see Victoire, of course. I'm pretty sure their lips have been magnetized."

Teddy blushed. He'd graduated, sure, but he wasn't quite used to people speaking so candidly in front of his former Headmistress. He looked up at McGonagall sheepishly and shrugged. "I was actually wondering if I could go catch up with them in the Hospital Wing. I don't want to stay long, I just want to say goodbye."

McGonagall appraised her former student coolly. "Of course, Mr. Lupin. Go ahead, I'm certain you know the way."

Lupin nodded, said his goodbyes, and walked up the front steps of the castle.

* * *

Thank you to all of my readers! I would love to hear any criticisms or commentary that you have!


	6. Chapter Five : Conflict Task Team

**Chapter Five**

**Hogwarts**

**September 24, 2017**

* * *

Victoire awoke the next morning in the hospital bed beside her sister. She stood and padded over to the window. It was early, as evidenced by the soft light and the heavy fog sitting low on the ground, maybe around seven. She glanced at the partial reflection the window gave her. Her hair looked mussed and dry, her blue eyes tired and her skin rough. She went back to the bed she had claimed and searched in its blankets for her wand and performed a refresher spell and a general dressing spell, which gave her the feeling of having just stepped out of the shower and gotten ready for the day. She knew that while she felt it and looked it, it wasn't entirely true, and the charms wouldn't last long.

She sat back down in an uncomfortable chair with a green plastic cushion next to her sister, who had been given dinner and a dreamless sleep potion to give her ample rest. Victoire held Dominique's hand in her own and kissed it, tearing up as she thought through the frightening events of yesterday afternoon. While violence like that was something she should never have to know, Dominique was only fifteen, which made matters even more heartbreaking for Victoire. Every witch was used to the _attention_ that men gave them, the unprompted compliments and the sexist jokes and language. She knew this was one example of how the social policies of the wizarding world did not stray far from the muggle world, and chalked it up to a flaw in the male species. But _violence _like this was rather rare in the wizarding world, that she knew for sure. She knew from her history of magic courses and extracurricular study that men _and _women who served the Dark Lord Voldemort performed unspeakable acts during the last two wars, but Victoire also knew that there had been very few acts like this during peacetime, especially by strangers.

Victoire sighed, resting her forehead on Dominique's bed. She couldn't think about it anymore. She was just glad they had found her when they did. Victoire heard the double doors to the Hospital Wing swing slowly open, so she sat up and turned around. Louis came walking in, looking as sleepless as Victoire felt, with a basket evidently nicked from the kitchens as it was filled with croissants and fruits and a plastic box of sausages. Louis pulled a chair up beside Victoire and kissed her on the cheek.

"Did she wake up at all?" he asked, opening the basket and handing Victoire a small plate.

She shook her head, accepting a croissant, strawberries, and a sausage. She ate quickly, having not had the stomach for food the night before.

"I want to murder him." Louis announced softly a few minutes into their silent breakfast. He bit violently into a sausage. "I want to murder him and everyone like him. I just don't understand. It's so. It's so personal." Louis looked down at the plate in his lap.

Victoire scooted her chair closer to his, leaning her head onto his shoulder. He was only thirteen, but Victoire was realizing that something like this could impact anyone of any age. She was about to reply when the doors swung open again, and the two siblings turned their head to see who the new guest was.

Their parents were walking briskly towards them. Victoire suddenly realized how much she was becoming like her mother. She was already the spitting image of her, and as her mother crossed the room, worry creased into her face, she realized just how much alike they really were. Victoire shook the out of place thought process out of her mind for now and stood to embrace her parents. The four hugged one another together. Stepping back, Victoire studied their faces to find them sleepless. Her mother looked like she had aged one hundred years in one night, as did her father.

"McGonagall wouldn't let us come last night, she said that there was nothing to be done until the morning." Fleur complained, her French accent thicker in her exhaustion. "A horrible decision, if you ask me." Fleur approached her youngest daughter slowly, walking around to the other side of the bed. Finally she kissed the still sleeping Dominique on the forehead and held the girl's hand, looking up at her husband. "I just don't understand."

Bill came to his wife's side, putting an arm around her and resting his other hand on his daughter in the bed. "I don't either, Fleur. I don't either."

* * *

Hermione sat down at her desk near the end of a long Monday. She was emotionally exhausted from the day's agenda. She had gone in knowing it would be a tough day, with the acquisition of her niece's rapist on Saturday and receiving Dominique's statement on Sunday. She entered the office that morning with a fresh pile of paperwork on her desk and a to-do list a mile long, but it was the first item on that to-do list that wrecked her the most. She had spent sixty long minutes with her niece grilling her with the mandatory ministry-supplied questions, and she hated every minute of it. At one point, both witches were crying, and the only thing Dominique could say was "It's okay, Aunt Hermione, I know we have to." It was the have-to's that Hermione most often hated about her job, but as an Officer in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she had gotten used to them quickly. She was just glad that she was there to do the questioning instead of some stranger asking Dominique dozens of invasive questions.

Ron walked into her office near the End of Day bell, walking around her desk and capturing his wife in a tight hug.

"How did it go?"

"It was awful. I felt so horrible having to ask her all of those questions, Ron. I can't believe that's part of protocol."

Ron nodded, transitioning from the hug to providing a shoulder massage.

"I mean, do they really need to know how he got her in the alleyway? Do they really need to know the sequence of events that lead to my niece being violated so intensely? All they need to know is if he did it or not. I mean, he was caught red-handed."

Ron shrugged. The entire situation made his rage levels soar, so he had been trying not to meditate on it. He was reminded of when Hermione was tortured in the Malfoy mansion and he had no clue what was going on. But, obviously, this method wasn't working for Hermione.

Just then there was a knock on the door. "Come in." Hermione called, shuffling some papers around. Harry and Kingsley Shacklebolt walked in together.

"Harry! Minister! Hello." Hermione said. Ron raised his eyebrows in greeting. He had just left the two of them in the auror office.

"Good afternoon, Hermione. I trust you're doing well?" Kingsley asked, sitting in a chair opposite Hermione's.

"As well as one might imagine, Minister."

"Oh yes, Harry and Ron were discussing your role in the young Ms. Weasley's case earlier. I'm terribly sorry you had to go through all of that with your niece."

Hermione shook her head, "I was glad it was me, to be honest, instead of someone else."

The minister nodded, seemingly waiting an appropriate amount of time before changing the subject. "I've brought some things to Harry and Ron's attention that I think you should be clued into as well."

Hermione paused her paper shuffling to look up at the minister. "Alright."

Kingsley looked at Harry. Harry cleared his throat from his position leaning against the far wall. "The ministry is looking to construct a Conflict Task Team, Hermione, meaning that we're anticipating something major happening with all of this stuff happening with the International Confederation of Wizards."

Hermione frowned. "There hasn't been any action yet, as I understand it. Why should we be moving forward when all anyone has said is that they are upset about the way that power is distributed within the Security & Diplomats Council?"

Kingsley shifted in his chair. "I have reason to believe that we may be looking at a more physical response in a matter of months, maybe weeks."

Hermione took a deep breath, but looked skeptical. "Weeks? Surely there isn't _that _much tension. Why haven't I heard of this prediction before? Surely this involves my department?"

Kingsley nodded. "The relationship between wizarding East and wizarding West is even more strained than anyone understands, Hermione. It's incredibly tied to the renaissance of thought that the muggle world is going through right now in terms of reclaiming colonized cultures, but the wizarding world isn't healing as quickly, or at all, rather. The same disputes have been going on for centuries about rights and powers, and I for one don't even know the beginning of it. But we may be looking at the end, if it's possible."

Harry spoke up once more. "And as for why you haven't heard about this, Hermione, is because this isn't strictly ministry business, what we're discussing right now. Kingsley is suggesting this within another realm."

"The Order." Hermione said.

Kingsley nodded. "Precisely."

"So you are suggesting that we create a ministry task team of Order members."

"Essentially."

Hermione sat back in her office chair. "Why not just involve the Order?"

Kingsley and Harry shared a look. Harry spoke. "There are people in the ministry who don't entirely trust the Order. When Kingsley implied that the Order would keep … vigilant, so to speak, about the situation, there was a lot of concern that the Order can act on their own."

Ron spoke, moving to stand in front of Hermione's large faux-window. "They don't like the fact that the Order isn't under ministry control."

Hermione frowned. "That's the point of the Order, though, isn't it? It provides a system of checks and balances for the ministry. It's obviously necessary – the Order won the last war, not the ministry. The ministry was infiltrated and taken over."

Kingsley shifted again in his seat, undoubtedly unconsciously conveying his own mental turmoil over the situation, not just his own lack of physical comfort in the hard office chair. "Most think that situations like that are in the past, that this is a new era of peace and trust within the British wizarding community."

"That's likely." Hermione snorted.

Kingsley stood to leave the threesome. "I just wanted to give you all a heads up as to what might come. I didn't want to leave you out of the loop." He shook hands with Harry, opening the door to leave.

"Well, thank you, Minister." Her tone became more formal as the door was open and the possibility for other to hear increased. "We'll certainly give it some thought." Kingsley nodded and exited with a final wave. Harry closed the door after him, and Ron assumed his seat.

"I don't know about this at all," Hermione began. "I would be fine with the task force being made up of members from the Order, but with Kingsley's insinuation that the Order might very well be dissolved in the presence of such a team…" She trailed off, shaking her head and clicking her quill obnoxiously against her wooden desk.

Harry nodded in agreement. "I wouldn't want to see the constitution of the Order suffer for the sake of a ministry-governed group. As much as I respect and trust Kingsley, and as many of our friends work for the ministry now, there are still people quite high in the power structure that I don't quite fully trust."

"Constant vigilance." Ron commented with a smile. "Mad-Eye would've never submitted to something like this."

Hermione stood up, gathering her things. "Well, either way, I'll definitely need to think on it." She paused, looking around her desk for something before continuing on. "I wonder if I can submit library requests for the same week I want to go, I need to do some-

"Research." Harry and Ron finished for her as she walked out the door. They followed quickly behind, rolling their eyes at each other in passing.

* * *

Victoire awoke Monday morning without a clue of what day it was. For the first five minutes she lay still in bed, staring out the window across from her bed into a clear blue sky. She finally turned to look at her nearest sleeping roommate, only to find that her roommates weren't sleeping, and in fact weren't there at all. Victoire groaned and rolled over to check her alarm clock.

"Bloody hell." She threw off her bedding and jumped out of bed, feet slamming firmly onto the ground. She reasoned that she had just enough time for a shower without being late for her first class. After an extremely rushed shower, she ran back into her room, put on her clothes and reached to pick up her school bag. In doing so, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

"Forget it." Victoire dropped her books on the ground, got back into bed and pulled the curtains of her four-poster shut tight. She had accidentally dressed into her pajamas. "I'll send an owl to the professors later on."

Victoire pulled out a piece of parchment and a self-inking quill.

_Teddy,_

_I haven't gone to class this morning. I feel bad about it, it's not as if I was the one attacked. Dominique seems to be doing exceptionally well, considering. It's strange to think that some people can move on from events like this and others can't. I can't stop thinking about the look on Dominique's face when we found her. It's heartbreaking and terrifying that someone would violate someone I love like that, or anyone at all. I don't understand it and it's apparently taking me a long time to process. I miss you already, and I'm sorry we fought this weekend. I do understand what you were saying, and I promise to act with more consideration next time I feel the need to talk to you about your career or your gross flat or your health. I'm also sorry I just called your flat gross. But Teddy, wave your wand a bit, honestly. Last time I saw it in August, it was revolting. _

_all my love,_

_Victoire_

Quickly sealing the short letter into an envelope, she stuck it on her bedside table for delivery via owl post later on. First, she decided, a nap was in order. She hadn't slept well all weekend.

* * *

**Thanks for reading!**


	7. Chapter Six : The Greenhouses

**Chapter Six**

**Hogwarts**

**October 4, 2017**

**warning: sexual imagery**

* * *

Neville Longbottom still hated the dungeons with all of his heart. Just walking past the staircase down to them in the Entrance Hall shot adrenaline up his spine, and actually walking into the potions classroom itself he experienced the familiar feeling of asphyxiating terror. This made his job particularly difficult at times, seeing as he was the Deputy Headmaster and the Head of Gryffindor. On this particular morning, he was already feeling tense so he took a calming draught before his regular Wednesday morning trip down to the dungeons to chat with Professor Bullstrode. Millicent was no Snape by any means, and was actually quite pleasant as a colleague. She was a newer addition to the Professorial team at Hogwarts, even though she and Neville had been in the same year. All the same, Neville often required self-coaxing each Wednesday morning to perform his duties.

"Millicent," he said after she bid him into her office. "how are things going." He sat down in front of her desk even though she was busy in her storage closet, doing inventory on her supplies.

"Well, Neville, and how are you?" She asked, still hidden from sight.

Neville nodded, but realized his error. "Er – fine." he replied after waiting several unfortunate seconds.

"You hesitated." Millicent asked, coming out of the storage closet and sitting down at her desk. She was a tall, square, plain woman – not as rough-looking as she had been in her Hogwarts days, but nothing particularly pleasant, either, but it didn't bother her. Her job wasn't to be aesthetically pleasing, it was to produce excellency in her field, and she was good at it. Aesthetics were far from the most important thing in her mind.

Neville shook his head, "I'm fine. I took a calming draught this morning, I guess I'm a little slower than normal."

She didn't nod or ask questions, but continued sitting.

"Right then. Any new reports?" He asked, learning forward in his chair.

"None that I can think of. Gave three detentions yesterday to the third-year Potter and the third-year Weasley. I know you're close with the families, you might go on and tell their mums if you feel like it. I don't know if it would do any good, but I'm open to anything at this point, if it'll get those two to take a break for a bit."

Neville smiled, trying not to show his genuine amusement. "I'll look into it, but I'm not sure just how much James and Louis are affected by their mothers' warnings. Ginny might know how to take care of things, but Fleur just assumes that James is the instigator. I don't think she knows just how devious her youngest child can be."

Millicent shrugged. "I just know that if they pull another prank like that in my classroom-

"What did they do?"

"They purposefully dropped a vial of horned slug secretion into a highly volatile personal project that I was working on. Snuck over to my cauldron when I was putting some directions up on the board. It exploded, of course, and it was lucky that they hadn't tried it the week before or we might be dealing with some very serious injuries. As it is, a few of their other classmates have some minor burns and were throwing up slugs for the remainder of the day."

Neville winced and his stomach turned, remembering in devastating detail what it was like for Ron to be cursed with vomiting slugs.

"Sorry about your project," he said. "will it take very long to recreate?"

Millicent shook her head. "I was only about ten days into the brewing process that should take about a month. It could have been worse. I've gone and wasted some particularly expensive ingredients that I'll have to track down and replace, though."

Neville nodded. "If you need help with that I'm sure Minerva can provide some funds, since they came out of your personal storage and students are at fault."

Millicent nodded her thanks.

"If that's about it, then, I suppose I'll see you at lunch." Neville left his seat, gave Millicent a short wave, and made his way quickly out of the dungeons.

Leaving the dungeon stairwell, Neville felt his chest clear of any remaining anxiety. He rounded the sharp corner that opened the small hallway up beside the Great Hall and promptly bounced into a student.

"Oh, Roxanne, I'm so sorry." He kneeled to gather the books and papers the impact had thrown into the floor.

"It's quite alright, Uncle Neville."

Neville stood up smiling, handing the things over to his friends' young daughter. He was quite pleased that the Potters and the Weasleys had remained such close friends with the Longbottoms over the years, so much so that the children thought of Neville and Hannah as uncle and aunt rather than just adults they knew of up at Hogwarts. He had been there at most of their births and watched as his son, Frank, grew up beside them. Anne in particular had looked just like her Aunt Ginny from day one, and despite his crush on Ginny Weasley dissolving many a year ago, it created a small fondness in him for this particular student.

Neville noticed that his favorite second-year standing in front of him (not that he truly had favorites, mind) didn't look too content at the moment.

"Are you quite alright, Anne? You're looking down."

Anne shrugged, adjusting the stack of school-things in her arms. "I'm alright. Just had a row with Lucy."

Neville frowned sympathetically, patting the girl on the shoulder as the two began to part ways. "You two are thick as thieves, I'm sure you'll figure out a solution."

Anne nodded, not entirely concealing her disbelief. "Maybe. I'll see you later, then, I've got to get to potions early."

Neville waved as the girl walked down the hall and disappeared into the stairwell he had just left.

Had Frank not met Eleanor Bones, Neville would have bet on him marrying a Weasley. At least, he'd hoped that a Weasley marriage would be in his future. Neville liked Eleanor well enough, and was fine with their relationship (which had been going on since their fourth year), but couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret that Frank probably wouldn't be making his familial relationship with the Weasley and Potter families official. Neville supposed there weren't too many options anyway, as Victoire was obviously infatuated with Teddy Lupin and Dominique, as Neville saw it, hadn't even thought of dating once in her life. The rest of the Weasley women were far too young for Frank.

Neville headed out of the front doors to the castle and around the North tower towards the greenhouses and his own offices. He felt lucky to have landed such a great position at Hogwarts. He knew he was qualified – luck hadn't played a part there – but Pomona Sprout had been far from her own ideal retirement age (she had discussed this with Neville once during a particularly long night during sixth year while caring for some young worrisome fanged geraniums) when she decided to step down. She was an aged witch, for sure, but as far as pureblooded witches and wizards go, she was barely facing the end of her Act Two, the prime of her life.

The greenhouses had always been Neville's favorite spot on campus. The plants were beautiful, the sea-glass structure was beautiful, and he had always felt very safe, even in the presence of the more mature mandrake roots. He was very pleased that he now had the opportunity to show students the wonder and excitement that was herbology. In addition to that, he had also taken over the position of Gryffindor's Head of House, and had risen in ranks to Deputy Headmaster over the years. Pomona had left him with one task in her absence: the Hufflepuff common room had become somewhat accustomed to the plants she had been curating in the room, and someone would need to continue on with the practice. Neville continued this, and took the idea to the Gryffindor common rooms which had gone over with great success. He and McGonnagal had actually begun spiffing up the Gryffindor rooms, noticing that as all of the other houses changed subtly over time, the Gryffindor tower had barely seen any sort of renovation, however small, since its construction. They updated the furniture with a few refreshing spells here and there, and decided that it was time to do something with the ceiling of the common room, choosing to create a mural of the last four decades of Quidditch wins in true magical form, the scenes playing out as if they were a moving portrait. Often when Neville was in the tower he would wait around to see his friends, pointing out to any listening students that he remembered this match, or they almost didn't win this one, you see. Neville had become quite sentimental in his age.

Neville walked past greenhouse one, two, and three, and finally arrived at his office and personal quarters. A greenhouse itself, but shaped rather like an octagonal party tent instead of the rectangular shapes of the greenhouse classrooms, he was constantly tending to his own growing projects in his spare time. The entire first floor, which wrapped around a very large tree trunk, was his office and personal workspace. To access his personal quarters, one simply had to prod their wand into a rather large knot on the rather large tree trunk, which then opened into a dimly lit spiral staircase inside the tree, which was covered in bark as well. Carved into the bark on the inside of the tree was an etching every past Herbology Professor's face, and often they were mentioned as either the Hufflepuff or Gryffindor Head of House. There was one Slytherin, but no Ravenclaws. Neville's would appear at the dawn of his last year of teaching at Hogwarts, which was something he didn't yet understand but had a hunch that Pomona's etching was in part a reason for her early departure form the school. Neville entered the tree trunk and made his way up the spiral staircase, each step a free-floating slab of tree trunk. At the top, a veil of green vines magically parted to let him pass through.

The top of the grand tree was contained within the greenhouse structure, and took up most of the ceiling in all directions. Most of the furniture had been carved out of its ingrown branches – large trunks of wood that had grown outward and curved back in towards the room in its many years of growth. For instance, the large four-poster which sat against the trunk, was carved out of its largest branch. The shelves along the wall were made from the tree, as were the armoires, seating, and the large bath situated around the other side of the trunk. There were no windows, merely different living areas quartered off by the furniture. Neville hadn't changed much decoration from Pomona's residence until he married Hannah. They lived and raised their family in the apartment above the Three Broomsticks, which was quite cozy and Neville loved it, but there were several days of the week when Neville was required to stay at the castle. Upon Hannah's first visit to the greenhouse he had decided to redecorate a bit, finding that a change of house colors was in need.

Neville quickly changed into his classroom robes – a bit sturdier (and dirtier) than his regular robes – and switched into rubber boots as well. He made his way to greenhouse two as the fourth-year Gryffindor and Hufflepuffs were beginning to arrive. He waited for them to all filter in before handing out instructions.

"Right. Hullo everyone, hope you've had a decent week so far. We're going to be having a bit of a free period today, but you must be doing _something_, so that means you're helping me in the back with digging up the hellebore roots, clearing the knotgrass that's been growing along the gate path, or cutting down the mallowsweet stalks for Professor Firenze, but even before we all get to that, we're each going to pick two flutterby bushes and get to trimming, yes?"

The group nodded and retrieved shears from the storage cabinet. "Once your second task is done you have the rest of the period off." Neville raised his voice over the shallow chatter of the group. "Think about getting ahead on the homework that's due on Friday. Remember, fifteen inches on the magical properties of screechsnap and its various uses."

After overseeing the care of the flutterby bushes ("Ah ah ah, Mr. Trowley, remember: cutting too many stems past the fourth leaf can set the entire colony of bushes back half a century of growth.") and making sure enough people were setting out for each task, Neville made his way to the back of greenhouse two with a handful of his students. Sitting in two raised garden beds full of soil were two dozen nearly translucent red orbs, some with dashes of purple. He gathered the small group of students around the beds and leaned in, speaking quietly.

"Alright. The key to successfully digging up hellebore roots is to understand that the roots are actually the flower, and vice versa. These red pods are actually what the roots grow out of. The roots can be snipped off and the pods will continue to grow more, but if the pod is disconnected or harmed, the roots cannot regrow a pod. Does everyone understand?"

The group nodded.

"Right then. It's important to stay quiet, as loud noises can harm the pods' growth centers." Neville grinned, mostly to himself. "That's one of the main reason these are kept far away from the mandrake roots in greenhouse one."

Neville demonstrated how to dig around the pod and clip off the roots about halfway down, careful to cut below all of the nerve endings. Each student harvested roots from two or three pods each, which took about half of the regular class time, and turned the roots in to Neville. He thanked his group softly, wrapping the roots in a damp cheesecloth, and bid them a good day. He was about to begin the process of preserving them when a student came up behind him.

"Professor Longbottom?"

Neville turned around to find Molly Weasley standing behind him. "Molly! Are you alright? Weren't you out clearing the knotgrass?" Neville stretched his neck to find the other students along the gate path. They seemed to be doing fine.

Molly nodded. "I was, but I remembered that I had a question for you, and I didn't want to go on and forget."

Neville nodded, gingerly placing the hellebore roots in a drawer for safe keeping. "Go for it."

"I was wondering if you knew much about wandmaking or wandlore."

Neville frowned in thought. "I'm not sure I do, why do you ask?"

Molly shrugged, eyes glazing over with disinterest at the negative answer. "I just thought that wandmaking is probably closer to herbology than anything else, due to the wood being a defining characteristic of each wand."

Neville nodded. "That's quite astute. Now, I say I don't know much, but I do have a book about the different wand woods in my private quarters. Would you like to borrow it? I could bring it to lunch with me."

Molly nodded, cheering up a bit. "That would be great, thanks. See you later, Uncle Neville."

Neville gave a small wave as he watched the retreating student's back. After a sudden though, he called after her. "Molly, you might ask your Uncle Harry about stuff like that. If I'm not mistaken he knows a good bit about wandlore."

Molly nodded, looking over her shoulder as she continued up the hill. "Thanks! I will."

Neville took care of the hellebore roots before checking in on the other groups. They were mostly finished, with the mallowsweet being tied in bundles and stored in the cupboard, and the last of the knotgrass being raked into a large bag. He waited for the students to finish, thanked them for their work, and watched the last of them disappear up the hill. Neville made his way back to his office, sitting down at his desk and checking his watch. He had about twenty minutes until lunch began, which was just enough time to write a quick note to his wife.

_Hannah_,

_I've got to stay up at the castle tonight. I've not done my rounds shift for a while and I'm feeling a bit guilty. I know no one minds, but still. I'll pop by in the morning for breakfast._

_love you,_

_Neville_

After sending the letter on its way with his owl Pudly, Neville went upstairs and changed back into his regular robes. He grabbed the book to loan to Molly and made his way back up to the castle and into the Great Hall. He scanned the contents of his house' table before settling on a short blonde-haired boy named Leigh. Neville walked over.

"Mr. Trowley."

The boy looked up. "Oh hullo, Professor. Is this about class? I know I skipped out a bit early but the others said it was fine to go to-

Neville shook his head, not even knowing what the boy was talking about. "No, you sit with Mrs. Weasley, right?"

Leigh grinned. "Which one? There's about a dozen."

Neville laughed. "Molly."

Leigh nodded, accepting the book from Neville.

"You'll give her that for me? I've got to go on up to the table."

Leigh nodded gain. "Absolutely."

"Thanks." Neville made his way up to the Head's table and took his place beside the Headmistress merely seconds before the house elves sent the food up. He poured himself a cup of tea.

"How is your day going, Neville?"

Neville nodded. "Decent. And yours, Pro- Minerva?"

Minerva rolled her eyes. "Well. It's always strange to find that even years later some of my colleagues still think of me as their professor."

Neville blushed. A few minutes later into the meal, Neville turned to his superior once more.

"Minerva, have you been looking at all of this news with the ICW?"

She nodded, cutting into a pork chop. "I have." She glanced around a bit, and leaned closer. "And I know for a fact the Ministry is already leaning towards action."

"Really."

"Truly, Mr. Longbottom." She gave a small grin with the formality. "I know of another fact as well, which is that the Ministry is hinting at the Order coming underneath ministry control."

Neville frowned, but was silent for a while.

"Personally, I'm not for it one bit. I've consulted with Albus, and he's not interested in it either."

Neville smiled at the older witch's mention of their old Headmaster and his portrait. They were lucky that he had commissioned it so near to his death. The portrait Albus had barely missed any information at all. While it was legions away from having the real person around, his vague advice was still considered carefully by most.

The afternoon classes flew by for Neville, treating first and second years to a free period similar to the one from the morning. The greenhouses and surrounding property were looking much better by the time the afternoon sun began disappearing behind the forest. After dinner, Neville strolled over to where Frank was sitting with Eleanor and some Weasleys at the Gryffindor table. He sat down, joining them with a bowl of ice cream in hand.

"Hullo everyone. Pleasant days?"

Everyone nodded, saying their hellos.

"Uncle Neville, I have a question."

"Yes, James."

"Say I knew someone that was looking for a particular plant for a … for a potions extra credit project. And," James continued, leaning diagonally across the table to get closer to Neville's face as he whispered. "say that particular _plant _was _a little _illegal."

Neville raised his eyebrows, scooping some ice cream out of the bowl. He hovered his spoon around at James' face while he spoke. "Let's say that a certain Professor was willing to search for this plant for a certain student. What would this professor be risking his position for?"

James grinned. "_Alihotsy._" James took Neville's spoon into his mouth and ate the ice cream sitting on it.

Fred rolled his eyes, grabbing James by the collar of his shirt and pulling him back into his seat. "Don't listen to the idiot, he's wanting to play a prank on Rose."

Neville frowned. "Well that's cruel."

James sighed. "She's the first Weasley Slytherin! We've got to do something."

"You could buy her a nice present and assure her that just because she's in a different house doesn't mean she's not a part of your family." Eleanor said wisely.

"She tripped you!" James shouted. "Why are you sticking up for her!"

"It was an accident and she even apologized." Victoire snapped.

James groaned and swiveled off the bench and went to leave the Great Hall.

Neville looked around at the bunch that was now laughing. "Its nice of you all to stick up for Rose. She's got to be feeling strange about the whole thing."

Fred shrugged. "She's eleven, there's no use in torturing her about it."

Frank laughed, elbowing his friend in the arm. He looked up at Neville. "Dad, this one here paid a seventh-year to turn all of her knickers red and gold."

Fred grinned and Neville rolled his eyes.

"But that's it! It's over." Fred laughed. "Thanks for telling on me." He said, elbowing Frank back but harder.

Neville sat with them for a few minutes while he finished his ice cream. Finally, he stood up to go. "I'm staying at the castle tonight, Frank. I'll be down in the greenhouse if you want to come by a bit before curfew."

Frank nodded. "Alright then. Can this idiot come along?" He gestured to Fred, who in turn tried to look angelic.

Neville agreed to it and went on back to his greenhouse.

Climbing the spiral staircase within the tree, he paused. There was definitely someone in his private rooms. He went on up, looking carefully through the vines. He stepped through.

"Hullo?"

"Oh, Neville, you're early!" Hannah exclaimed in exasperation. "I wasn't expecting you for another half hour. I was going to get all dressed up."

Nevill looked around his room at the soft lighting coming from over a dozen candles. He laughed, walking briskly to his wife and clasping his arms around her waist. Hannah was a well-aged witch, barely looking a day over twenty-five. The laughter lines around her mouth and eyes were the only things that gave her age away. Her sandy brown hair was cut neatly at shoulder length and her spritely blue eyes still lit up every time she laid eyes on Neville. He was a lucky bloke.

"Thought you would surprise me?" He asked, pulling her in for a soft kiss on the lips.

"I would have if you'd stay at dinner and be social!" She protested, but smiled. "I bought a new outfit and everything."

"You don't need an outfit." He said before closing the space between them once more, slyly slipping his hands down to cup his wife's buttocks.

She giggled, slipping her arms around his neck and standing on her tip-toes to deepen the kiss. A few seconds later she grasped the back of Neville's shirt (as he had discarded his robes by the door) and began to pull it over his head. "You don't need an outfit either, I think." She threw it behind him. They kissed again, Neville lifting his small wife up to rest on his hips, slinging her legs around him, as he carried her to his bed.

"It's strange to believe," he said as he set her down on the edge and dropped slowly to his knees.

"Wait," Hannah interrupted, leaning back to grab a pillow from the top of the bed. She handed it to Neville. "Your bad knee."

"Oh thanks." He shoved it underneath his legs. "Anyway, it's strange to believe that we've never done this here before."

Hannah frowned, running her hands up and down his arms that laid on either side of her on the bed. "Haven't we?"

Neville shook his head. "We've never done it at Hogwarts."

This made the brunette laugh, throwing her head back. "You sound like a teenager again. 'Have you ever, you know, _done it_?'"

He laughed, kissing up her leg, and murmured "You make me feel like a teenager again." And he knew that she understood he meant it in the best way possible.

* * *

It was fourth-year during the TriWizard tournament when he took Ginny Weasley to the Yule Ball. They were dancing; it was almost a memory rather than a dream. She had looked stunning. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hannah sobbing in a chair with her face buried in her hands. He stepped back from Ginny and ran to her.

"What is it? What is it, love? Is it Ginny? I'm sorry, I didn't-

Hannah looked up, pointing back at Ginny and sobbing even harder.

Neville took her in his arms, repeating his apology until he heard Hannah whisper, "She's dead. They're all dead."

Neville frowned at his wife but looked up anyways. He fell back onto the floor. Everyone around him, including the girl he had just been dancing with, was lying glassy-eyed and bloody on the dance floor around him.

"They're all dead." Hannah screamed this time. "We're all dead."

Neville, laying on his back, looked up at the ceiling of the Great Hall. He watched as the enchanted starry sky grew closer and noticed a small shooting star cross the sky. The star changed colors, from yellow to purple to blue and then to green. Neville realized that the green shooting star was falling out of the sky and coming straight for him. He was paralyzed, he could do nothing but sit and wait as the bright green light came rushing towards him. He screamed out for Hannah, who had quieted. He couldn't look left or right – only directly into the star. Just as it was about to crash into him, he awoke with a gasp and sat straight up in the bed.

He blinked his eyes several times, trying to correct his blurry vision. He felt around in the dark, searching for his glasses on his bedside table. Finally with them on his face he looked down at his sleeping wife. His heart was still beating like crazy, so he stood and walked around the room, stopping by a window. His breathing and heart rate slowed as he looked out at the calm early-morning grounds. Off in the distance the Giant Squid was leisurely gazing out from the lake. The sky was nearly all a dusty blue, the only thing left of the night sky was settling near the horizon, preparing to fall into eternity. The stars were still out and he searched them, looking for Mars, which he knew was visible at this time of year. He blinked hard twice as he saw a shooting star graze slowly across the sky. He scratched his head trying to shake the remnants of the dream fade away.

"Neville?" Hannah called from the bed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing dear. Just woke up too early." Neville climbed back into the bed with Hannah, snuggling up to her and kissing her on the forehead. He finally fell back asleep, and when he did he dreamed peacefully of dancing with Ginny Weasley.


	8. Chapter Seven : Trust Falls

**Chapter Seven**

**Hogwarts**

**October 12, 2017**

* * *

James sat by the lake, skipping rocks. Actually, he was chunking them in without any regard to the art of rock skipping, but Louis didn't think it'd be a good idea to bring it up. James hadn't been in a pleasant mood all week, and Louis didn't want to make it any worse. They hadn't even tried any pranks since last _Thursday_. Louis thought James might be sick.

"Are you sure you're quite alright?" Louis asked, skipping in a rock for himself.

"I'm bloody _fine,_ Lou. Stop asking."

"You're the one who-

"Why don't you just bugger off, then." James snapped, throwing the next pebble in Louis' direction.

"Alright." Louis responded angrily, jumping up and jogging back up to the castle. He _wasn't_ about to stick around James in _that_ kind of mood, and he wasn't sure if he'd be very forgiving about it, either.

James huffed and fell backwards onto the grass, staring up into what seemed to be an endless blue sky. Occasionally he could see one of the members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team as they flew outside of the pitch into his line of vision. It was officially in season and their first game was coming up this weekend. Quidditch usually excited James to no end, but right now it only made him angrier. He sighed and closed his eyes.

"Oy, James!" Someone called what James thought was only a few minutes later. James opened one eye. Fred, Frank, Eleanor, and Molly were all walking in his direction.

"We could hear you snoring all the way at the pitch."

James groaned and sat up. "Bugger off, you lot." He frowned and rested folded arms on top of his kneeds.

Frank backed up with his hands in the air. "Alright, alright. You heard what he said, Eleanor, let's get to it."

"_Frank_." Eleanor chided.

The group joked around for a bit before Fred quietly waved them off and walked over to James. He threw his Quidditch bag down and sat behind it. "What's up, Jamesie?"

"Could you not, please."

Fred raised an eyebrow. "You know, James, you've been a right arse to everyone for the past two weeks. There's got to be something going on."

James snorted. "Nothing's going on. Maybe I just don't want to be around you lot anymore."

Fred laughed. "You literally can't get away from us. If it's not here, it's at home, or at Granmolly's house. We're everywhere."

James shrugged. He wasn't about to have this conversation with Fred right now. He was too angry and he'd been letting it build up and honestly he didn't even know how to explain it. He was just _mad._

"Alright then. Well, we've got another two hours before curfew. I reckon we can just sit here in silence until then."

James rolled his eyes and stared at his older cousin, but he didn't move, just smiled and stared out at the lake where the Giant Squid was coming up for an evening stroll around the banks. James let a few minutes go by in silence before looking back over at his dark-skinned cousin.

"Bloody hell, I'm just _tired_ of being treated like a kid around you lot, is all." James sighed, exasperated with even himself. "You make fun of everything I do and ever since the year began it's been like you're all suddenly too old to be friends with me. I don't like being treated like that. No one makes fun of Louis that way, and we're the same age."

Fred leaned over, gently elbowing his cousin. "Aww, James, I'm sorry. I didn't know you felt that way, or we'd have let up a bit."

James shrugged, and the two were silent for a while.

"Look at it this way. You get it more because you're easier to joke around with." Fred grinned. "Louis is a bit of a softie."

The giant squid seemed to slip in some mud and it sent three of his tentacles flying while he let out a semi-sonic wail. James and Fred cringed and buried their ears in their shoulders.

"Merlin, mate!" Fred cried when the sound was over. "You've almost burst our eardrums."

The giant squid didn't look over, but waved a tentacle in their direction and the boys took it as acknowledgement.

Fred continued, turning to James. "And, you know, we _are_ older. But that doesn't mean you're not our friend anymore. It just means that our, I don't know, _maturity levels _or something are different. You're thirteen and I'm sixteen and Frank and Victoire are seventeen. There are even times when I feel like they're looking at _me _funny for something dumb I've said. Why," Fred laughed. "the other day, Eleanor said something along the lines of _you'll understand when you're a seventh-year_ and I wanted to strangle her on the spot!"

James laughed. "Right."

Fred shrugged and looked back out at the lake. "People grow older, mate, and they change and their humor changes and what they think is important changes." He nudged James again, this time a little harder. "But that doesn't mean we don't want you around."

James studied the ground for a moment. He knew Fred was being extraordinarily kind with him right now, because he'd been a complete arsehole the past few weeks. James looked up, squinting in the late evening sun. "Sorry, mate."

Fred wrapped an arm around James' neck and pulled him into a tight side-hug, carefully positioning his nose into his underarm. James fought back, kicking and screaming. Finally, Fred let him go.

"Fred you are _disgusting_!" James jumped to his feet.

"Ahh, the refreshing smell of Quidditch." Fred said blissfully, leaning back and then standing up as well.

The two walked up to the castle and made their way to the Gryffindor tower. In front of the portrait, they stopped.

"Mimbulus Mimbletonia." Fred said to the portrait.

The Fat Lady smiled down at them and shook her head.

"Oh, bugger." Fred said, looking down at James. "Did you look at the bulletin this morning?" He asked.

James shook his head. "Has it been a fortnight already?"

Fred shrugged. "I dunno about a fortnight but they've decided to change it, that's for sure." He looked back up at the portrait. "Is it possible for you to let someone inside know that we're out here?"

She nodded her head and disappeared into the portrait. She soon returned, a shadow of another person behind her. The portrait swung open.

"There you are! Hurry up, I've called a house meeting." Eleanor said, ushering them in.

James wrinkled his nose and Fred sighed. They entered the buzzing common room.

"Did you see anyone else along the way?" Eleanor asked. The boys shook their heads.

Eleanor found a clearing in the assembly of Gryffindors and cleared her throat. "Alright, alright, listen up everyone. I've got two announcements and then Professor Longbottom's got some as well, so I'd like you to listen. First, we've got our first Quidditch match in two days and I expect every one of you out there supporting Gryffindor." The room broke into loud cheers and applause. Eleanor worked to get the room quiet again.

"A bit self-promotive, that was." Fred said, leaning over to whisper to Frank.

Frank grinned. "She's nothing if not prideful."

"And then my second announcement is that we've changed the password off schedule because _someone _told a Slytherin our password."

"She had a Gryffindor patch on!" A first-year squeaked in defense.

The room roared their disapproval but Eleanor whistled hard. "Calm down, it's all been taken care of. I'm sure all of you have made a mistake at _some_ point in your lives." Eleanor frowned at her fellow students. "Right then. Unless the prefects have anything to say, I'll hand it over to Professor Longbottom now."

There was a slight pause of waiting before Neville got to his feet.

"Right then. I want to talk to you all about something very important, but first, I want to tell a story." A small groan went through the crowd but Neville smiled. "Right, I know, a story. I'll get on with it."

Neville looked out at the crowd of his students in front of him and a small shiver went down his spine. He remembered, years ago, receiving similar news over and over again from Dumbledore. He wasn't about to let the tradition of trust between student and professor die with him.

"A little more than twenty years ago, I sat in the Great Hall with the rest of the students, and I listened to some of the most frightful news that I had ever received. Lord Voldemort was back." He saw some of the students shift, giving him a bit more attention. Most of them had heard war stories from their parents all of their lives, but few heard it from actual members of Dumbledore's Army. "Our headmaster then, Albus Dumbledore, had gathered us all together specifically to tell us this. He told us that many people wouldn't want him to talk to students about the Dark Lord's return, but he felt it was necessary, and important, to trust us and to tell us, as our lives were as much on the line as our parents." Neville paused for effect. "Now, what I have to tell you here today is nothing as imminent or grave as news of a dark and powerful wizard on the rise, but I do want you to understand that there is a trust between us, that you as young wizards are just as important and crucial to the health of wizarding Britain as a witch or wizard twice your age. And that is why I want to tell you that today, we are preparing for war."

The students gave into a small lapse in their attention and whispered with their neighbors, some louder than others. "What do you mean, we're at war?" One voice asked.

Neville shook his head. "We're not _at_ war. We may not ever _be_ at war. But the ministry is finding it pertinent to _prepare_ for war, and so I find it pertinent to inform you of it. Your parents may not like it – and I'm prepared to deal with that outcome. But I am not trying to be a fear monger, I am not trying to scare you or trick you. I want you to know and to understand today's wizarding politics, and the reality of it all right now is that western members of the International Confederation of Wizards are at odds with most of the eastern states. Relations have not been easy for decades, and they are worsening by the _minute._"

Neville looked around at his students who all now seemed to be thinking rather than chattering.

After many, many questions, the meeting was finally ended, and Neville bid his students goodnight. It took awhile for the common room to empty, but by midnight the only ones left were Victoire, Eleanor, Fred and Frank, who were lounging by the fire.

"What d'you suppose made him tell us all that tonight?" Eleanor asked, sitting with her legs across Frank's lap.

Frank shrugged. "I dunno."

Victoire was lying in front of the fire, stretched out across several pillows. "He seems to be stressing the whole trust thing, I think. I've been reading the papers and my dad talked about it all in his last letter, and I think it's very early to be making that kind of announcement." Victoire rolled over and stood up. "I think he's quite concerned with establishing that kind of communication with the house."

The group nodded, thinking about their Head of House's intentions.

"D'you think he got permission from McGonnagal first?" Fred asked, grinning.

Frank rolled his eyes. "If he gets in trouble with the board again mum's going to have is arse before they do."

The foursome laughed at the thought of it. As the clock approached one, they finally sauntered up to their dormitories, waving their goodbyes across the common room.

* * *

Rose and Pippa were running, hair flying and faces flushed.

"We can't be late," Pippa huffed, clutching a stitch in her side. "again."

The two reached the opposite side of the castle in record time. They burst out onto the courtyard lawn just as Madam Hooch appeared on the opposite side. They quickly pulled regulation brooms out of the broom cupboard and joined their classmates.

Madam Hooch was a very, very old witch. Very few professors had their sight set on teaching for fifty years, but Madam Hooch was not far from it. As she was quickly nearing her 120th birthday, she didn't move as quickly as she once did but that didn't stop her from doing much at all. She reached the group of first-year students, conjured up a chair, and sat down before beginning class.

"Today we're going to have a quick test. You should have all mastered the basics by now, and I want to make sure of it. Go on, line up. We'll go one by one."

The students got into a single-file line, and Rose made sure she was at the very back until Percie came along behind her.

Madam Hooch spent the hour having each student mount, lift, and fly the broom at varying speeds in a small portion of the courtyard. Nearly no one fell off, and Rose even got an E for the assignment. Percie, however, was reluctant to even try.

"But Madam Hooch, I _really _don't feel-

"Ms. Greengrass. If you're not up in the air within two seconds I'll be forced to talk to your Head of House."

Percie sighed, mounted her broom with ease, and took off. Rose's jaw dropped and Eliza squealed. "Percie's flying!"

Percie hadn't made it into the air during the first month and a half of flying classes. Each time she had complained of a stomach ache or made some other excuse. Rose now understood that she had been lying, but she wasn't sure why.

Pippa shook her head and laid back on the small grassy incline they were all perched on.

Rose looked back at Pippa over her shoulder. "Did you know about this?"

Pippa shrugged. "We grew up together."

"So you knew about this." Eliza chimed in.

Pippa just shrugged again. The threesome watched as Percie complied with each of Madam Hooch's commands, even the more difficult ones she hadn't thrown at the rest of the class.

Finally, Percie was called down and she landed right in front of the professor's chair.

"Merlin, sweet girl. I haven't seen anyone this young fly as fine as you since Harry Potter himself." Percie blushed. "What've you been avoiding flying for?"

Percie shrugged, and Madam Hooch didn't press the subject.

"That's it, though. No more messing around for you."

Percie made her way to her friends and plopped down on the ground in front of them. "Go on, do your worst." She said to Eliza and Rose. Pippa sat up, grinning.

"Pesephone Greengrass-" Eliza began.

"You dodgy, knob-headed," Rose continued.

"-barmy liar. Whyever have you been lying about your flying abilities. We could've started up a pub team ages ago."

The girls laughed, including Percie. She shrugged, staring down and picking at the grass. "I dunno, really. I hate flying. I hate it so, so much. But I'm bloody good at it." She grinned. "I just didn't want anyone to know, so they wouldn't make me do it."

Rose frowned. "Why do you hate flying so much?"

"Heights. I hate heights. And wind. And getting smelly. But mostly heights."

The foursome spent the rest of the pleasant afternoon by the lake, charming weeds into daisies and daisies into crowns. Storm clouds gathered on the horizon but it wasn't a worry in their mind quite yet. At one point, Rose was painfully aware of how content she was. She looked around at her three beautiful friends and smiled. Percie, who looked quite like mother earth in all seriousness, had her long, thick, light brown hair tucked underneath a thick headband and was encouraging her already golden-toned skin to darken as she sprawled out on the hill. Eliza, who was doing the exact opposite by protecting her ivory skin underneath a generous tree, was reading ahead for their astronomy class that night. Pippa, who was sitting next to Rose and unconcerned with the sun at large, was using her wand to connect the freckles on her olive-brown arm, making them look like constellations.

"Look," she said to Rose, leaning closer. "I think I've made Sirius."

Rose giggled. "That's my cousin's middle name. Sirius. He used to fancy going by it when he was little."

"Albus?"

"No, James."

"Ahh." Pippa looked at Rose, studying her.

"What? What is it?"

Pippa shrugged. "I was just thinking that it must have been very interesting to grow up with your family, is all, with every one of them war heroes."

Rose sighed, flopping onto her back. "I really didn't notice. They're just mum and dad and aunts and uncles and things like that, to me."

"I know," Pippa said "But still. Practically half of you Potter kids are even named after war heroes."

Rose giggled. "I have a sneaking suspicion that I'm named after a woman named Rosmerta. She owned the Three Broomsticks before the Longbottoms. My dad quite fancied her when he was at school."

Pippa howled with laughter, joining Rose on her back. "It's alright. I share the same name as my grandmother's favorite dog." Pippa gave Rose a pointed look. "And I didn't come first, if you're going to ask." The two dissolved into laughter once more. A while later, Pippa settled further into the grass.

"Really, though. It's special, I think. I mean, both of your parents have their own chocolate frogs for Merlin's sake." Pippa grinned, as did Rose.

"Right, they do. I made a joke of it when I was younger. I would collect every one of theirs that I found and I would leave them around the house in odd places, so that when they said 'no' to something, I'd just go pull out a card and tell them that the chocolate frog mummy had said that I could. It drove them mad, they thought it was so ridiculous. Dad was happy to have his own card, though. That was his favorite part of winning the war, I think."

Pippa kept smiling, but Rose glanced quickly over to see it faltering. Rose sat up.

"Does it make you uncomfortable, Pippa? When we talk about the war?"

Pippa sat up as well, squinting into the distance at the lake. "I don't know. I suppose it does." She shrugged. "I guess … I guess it just reminds me that my family went in on the wrong side, no matter where they came out. They were wrong, and they hurt people."

Rose nodded, and the two were silent for a while.

"If it makes you feel any better, Scorpius is technically my fourth cousin once removed. Just think about that."

Pippa fell back into laughter, her darker thoughts disappearing back into the corners of her mind. "Too bad, I'm quite sure he's in love with you."

"Nooo, he's not." Rose groaned, standing up and dusting off her hands. "And I'll thank you to never suggest it again. It's about time for dinner, wouldn't you say?"

Pippa agreed, standing up and going to rouse Percie while Rose got Eliza's attention. The four girls made their way back up to the castle for dinner as the storm clouds began rolling in over the castle, the rain announcing its arrival with large droplets on the now running girls' heads.

Later on, in the Great Hall near the end of dinner, Rose looked up suddenly and gasped.

"Albus!" Rose grinned at her favorite cousin as he appeared behind Percie's head at the Slytherin table.

"Hi, Rose." Said the boy with pale skin and bright green eyes. "How are things in Slytherin?"

Rose searched her cousin's face for any hint of mockery, but found none. "They're good. And Ravenclaw? I haven't seen you all term!"

"Splendid." Albus remarked, looking very happy. "At first I was very upset about not being in Gryffindor, but turns out the sorting hat had it alright, imagine that. I'm quite pleased."

"Me too, Al." Rose's smile turned a little softer. "Want to sit for a minute? I sure it'd be alright." Rose looked around. It wasn't done often, but it wasn't something that caused commotion, and Rose thought that since Slytherin had always been closest to the Ravenclaws…

"No, thanks though. I've got to get going. We're having a debate circle later on, and I need to prepare. They don't often let first years in the ring!" Albus waved his goodbye and left the Great Hall.

"What in the seven bloody hells do you think a debate circle is?" Percie asked, finishing up her steak and kidney pie before pulling a dessert plate in front of her.

Rose answered with a one-shouldered shrug while licking the marmalade off the top of a biscuit, but made a mental note to ask about it next chance she got.

"I'd be in _any _kind of circle with Albus." Eliza grinned slyly, batting her eyelashes at Rose beside her.

"Ew! Gross, that's _Albus_ you're talking about. Can you please quit it with my family members?"

"You're not _technically _related to Frank, though."

"I call his father uncle and I've seen his morning woodie. That's related enough."

Pippa made a noise of disapproval.

"His morning woodie?" Eliza frowned.

Percie rolled her eyes. "You forget who you're talking to, Rose."

Rose choked on a bit of a rather dry biscuit. "Right, sorry." She leaned close to Eliza, letting biscuit crumbles fall out of her mouth while she spoke, earning another eye-roll from Pippa. "Sometimes boys wake up with their _you know what _hard."

Eliza pulled away, looking horrified at both the crumbs and the new information. "What do you mean, it gets hard?"

Percie laughed gleefully. "My friends, I don't think dear Eliza knows about _sex_."

Eliza huffed, acting oddly defensive. Pippa continued to stay out of the conversation, focusing on a textbook in her lap as she gripped a mug of coffee with her right hand.

"And what can you know about it, Percie? We're only eleven, for Merlin's sake."

Percie raised her eyebrows. "I'm certain I know more about it than you, madam."

"How so?"

"Scorpius is my cousin!" Percie leaned in closer, grinning. "When we were younger, on playdates, his mum would leave us alone in the garden and he would hide behind the bushes and tell me all about _it."_

"His penis?" Eliza and Rose gasped in glee. Pippa looked up and shushed them harshly. The girls looked around quickly and leaned back into the conversation.

"Scorpius was _quite_ proud of it." Percie continued.

Just then, a short blonde sat down in the empty seat next to Eliza. "What is it about me you're saying?"

The three girls began howling with laughter, and even Pippa smirked. Scorpius' smile drooped.

"What? What is it?" He turned to Pippa, who was silently shaking her head. "What're they going on about?"

Pippa shrugged, still grinning. "I dunno. They've been talking nonsense all day, I've almost abandoned them."

Scorpius was quiet for a few moments before shrugging and cutting a piece of chocolate pie. After a while, the girls had settled down and were finishing up their desserts. Scorpius began anew with conversation.

"Have you heard the announcement? The ministry says that Beauxbatons is to hold the TriWizard tournament next year."

"Oh has it been five years already?" Rose frowned thoughtfully. "I remember Teddy talking about it in his fourth year." The redhead brightened considerably. "I suppose that means we'll be of age to participate in the next one!"

Scorpius paused and turned slowly to face Rose and Eliza. "I hadn't even done the math that way. I am incredibly excited about the prospect." He spoke in the strangest monotonous voice. The girls shared quick glances and giggled uncomfortably, unsure if he was trying to be funny or not. Percie decided to ignore it.

"Be careful, girls, that he doesn't get so excited that he invites you to visit a bush with him._"_

Eliza and Rose were caught so off guard by their extreme amusement that one spat pumpkin juice and the other got choked on her own spittle. Pippa, however, was so far gone into a fit raucous laughter that the group garnered the attention of several older disapproving Slytherins. Their icy glares subdued the happy first-years to quiet, shaking laugher behind their hands, and in Pippa's case, a book.

* * *

"If you haven't got the time for your muggle studies homework, I can outline it for you while you do something else."

Lucy and Anne sat in a corner of the Gryffindor common room at a small wooden table with two chairs. The third chair, having been unwanted by the pair for inviting guests to their corner, had been removed to the other side of the common room by the fire where a cat slept soundly while stretched across its' seat. Lucy, a second-year with the stature of a much younger girl, had straight blonde hair, pale skin, oval glasses, and a prim mouth set on a rather soft, kind face. Her best friend and cousin, Roxanne, was in possession of nearly polar opposite aesthetics: coarse dark auburn hair, rather large breasts for a twelve year old, darker skin than her brother's, and unbelievably dazzling blue eyes. Either one could most often be found in the company of the other no matter the time of day.

Lucy looked up from her own schoolwork and scooted her glasses up her nose. She stared across the round table at Anne expectantly. "Well?"

Anne nodded, not looking up from her parchment. "Alright."

Lucy huffed, pulling her glasses off and intently staring at Anne. "I'm sure I don't know why you're acting like this."

Anne looked up at her fair complexioned cousin and sat quietly while Lucy went on about the bad mood Anne had been in for a while. Finally, Anne stopped denying the mood and set in on Lucy.

"Well it's not as if I've gotten an _apology_ is it, Lucy? You walked up to me and all you said was that it didn't make sense for us to not speak since we're best friends _and _cousins."

Lucy's jaw dropped open a bit. "Are you still on that? Honestly, Anne, it's time to move on. _I _have." Lucy raised one eyebrow and after a lingering gaze at Anne, turned back to her homework.

Anne sighed and slumped back in her chair, leaning a bit on the back two legs to get a better look out of the tower window. It was a stormy evening, but storms only made the castle feel even grander, and besides that, Anne loved the rain. What she didn't love, at the moment, was the coldness and indifference she was receiving from her cousin, no matter how much it seemed like _she_ was the one pushing them apart and not Lucy.

Anne let out a sudden scream as her chair tipped backwards. She curled into a ball and protected the back of her head, waiting for the ground to come, but it never did. She opened her eyes and found a pair of dark blue orbs staring back at her.

"Gottcha."

"James!" She growled, swatting at him as she leaned forward and felt all four of the legs touch ground again. "I'm going to murder you."

He backed away smiling, his hands in the air. "Don't murder the messenger. Come on then, you two, we're going on an adventure."

Anne stared at James quizzically, without a response. He sighed.

"If I tell you where we're going, it won't be an adventure. Come on, Roxie!"

Anne rolled her eyes, but snapped her book shut and stood up. She began walking away without a second thought to whether or not Lucy would follow, but changed her mind when she glanced backwards to see Lucy staring forlornly out the window. Anne paused.

"Luce, are you coming?" She asked softly, holding out a hand. Lucy turned and regarded it quietly.

"I think I'll stay here. Bring me back a butterbeer if you can."

James called after them as he, Frank, Fred, Molly, and Louis headed out the portrait.

"Alright then." Anne said, following quickly after the others. "I'll see you later on."

Anne met the others outside of the portrait while Molly was pulling flower crowns out of a large brown satchel.

"Are those the ones Dad gave us?" Anne asked, walking over to her older brother.

"Yeah. I gave them to Molls earlier this morning in case I got stuck in detention over-time tonight." Fred said, receiving one of the crowns from Molly. "I think Dad thought he was having a good laugh, giving his son and nephews flower crowns, but I think I look quite charming in one. Don't I, Roxie?" Fred grinned as he placed the crown on his head. Quite instantly he disappeared with a soft _pop_.

Rose giggled. "Dashing, even."

The rest of the group disappeared underneath their flower crowns and made their way down the corridor.

"James, have you got the map?" Frank asked. The group paused.

"Er…"

"Seriously, Jamesie. I handed it over to you out of respect, but _seriously?_ You leave it behind on the very first mission we're out on." Fred said, exasperated.

Anne could feel James shrug beside her. "I'll just run back and get it. We've not gone far."

"No, don't worry about it, young cartographer." Frank said. "I've got it right here." Frank dropped the map on the ground to get it out of the invisibility charm he was surrounded in. James picked it up and it disappeared once again.

"You've been nicking my stuff, have you? I suppose you've got the box of chocolates as well, then?" he huffed.

Frank laughed. "If I wanted to nick some chocolates, James, I'd dip down to the kitchens and have my fill."

"_I _nicked your chocolates." Fred admitted.

James huffed. "If I could see you right now I'd hex you into- EVERYONE, QUIET." he whispered, looking down at the open marauder's map.

"Against the wall, _now_." Frank ordered.

The group of five flattened themselves against the wall. They heard as the footsteps padded closer and two distinct voices echoed off of the empty hallways.

"You know, Neville, I think it's about time we discussed next year's positions."

"You mean _your_ position, Minerva."

"Bloody hell, it's my _dad._" Frank whispered next to Anne. She smacked his arm softly to tell quiet him.

"I do, I do. You're well aware that Frank will be graduating this year, I'm sure."

Neville sighed deeply as they turned a corner and came into the view of the group of rogue Gryffindors.

"Oh, I'm well aware. Hannah sends me a teary howler just about every other day. She wants to have another one, I'm sure."

Minerva gave a soft chuckle. "It's ingenious, I'm sure, to do the entire child-rearing thing one at a time."

Neville laughed as well.

"I'm wondering if you've given any more thought to my proposition."

At this point the two professors were as close to the students as possible, who were now clinging onto the cracked stone wall with all of their might. To their terror, the two professors paused in the hallway.

"Minerva, I just don't know. I'm not sure I'm exactly qualified. From all the headmasters and headmistresses _I've _known of, I'm lacking certain necessary _regal_ qualities, I should think."

Minerva laughed, her aging face wrinkling heavily at its laughter lines. "I assure you, Mr. Longbottom. You are _more_ than qualified for such a position. Besides, it is certainly time that this school had the chance for an extended relationship with its headmaster for a change." She gave a knowing look to Neville and began their walk towards the Gryffindor tower once more. "You know as well as I that it doesn't take well to so many changes."

As the two disappeared around the next corner, the group took a sigh of relief and relaxed away from the wall. Before the professors drifted too far out of range, they heard McGonagall's voice once more.

"Do you smell gardenias, Neville?"

Molly giggled. "Is that what these are? I thought they were just funny roses."

Frank snorted. "You might want to consider remedial herbology." he chided Molly as they continued on through the castle to the portrait that was the entrance to their favorite passageway into Hogsmeade. "Gardenias are only one of the _most_ well-hidden magical plants in the muggle world. Aside from kudzu, that is. The lot of them think it's a weed..."

Their soft voices bounced off the tunnel walls as they slipped behind the statue and whispered the password (_the marauders, may they rest in peace), _before continuing off into Hogsmeade to retrieve several more cases of butterbeer than they could rationally carry back without the aid of magic.


	9. Chapter Eight : The Best-Kept Secret

**Chapter Eight**

**Hogwarts**

**October 20, 2017**

* * *

Victoire frowned as she approached a small wooden door in a smaller hallway off of the Charms corridor. She was fifty percent certain that it had just _giggled_. As she stood in front of it, she became quite sure it had indeed, for it giggled _again._

"Alright then." Victoire pointed her wand at the small silver doorknob and sighed. "Frank Longbottom is the handsomest wizard in all of the universe." The door giggled again, and there was a small flash of light. Victoire went to turn the knob, but it wouldn't budge.

"Come on now, I've told you the password. Let me in for the bloody butterbeer already, you _saloperie de merde!_" Victoire kicked the door and it growled. Victoire narrowed her eyes and stepped back from the door as it began shrinking away. She threw a bat-bogey hex at it and ran.

Back in the Gryffindor common room, Victoire cornered Frank immediately upon entering through the portrait.

"_Frank Longbottom._"

The boy looked up from his spot on the couch where he was chatting with Fred and Neville and paled. Neville sat back and grinned at his son's misfortune. Victoire stomped up to Frank and stood behind him. She yanked his head back by grabbing a fistful of dirty blonde hair. "Tell me the right password."

Frank winced and stood up in an attempt to alleviate some of the pain that was stinging his scalp. "I _did_ tell you the password! I- wait. Who do you think is the most handsomest wizard in all of the universe, V?" Frank began to grin.

Victoire stepped back, glowering. "The important question is who do _you_ think it is, Frank?"

Frank shook his now-liberated head and twisted on the couch, sitting on his knees and resting against the back. The expression on his face was impossibly devious. "Tell me, V, what exactly did you give the door as the password?"

Victoire said nothing.

Frank shrugged. "Alright, I'll look it up myself, then. Let me just go grab-

"Bloody hell, Frank, just give me the password. I assumed you were trying to get me to say that _you _were the most handsomest wizard in the univ-

"Yes!" Frank cheered before Victoire could even finish her sentence. "Did a flash go off when you said it? Oh, I do hope the picture took in a good time frame."

Victoire's eyebrows raised to a height previously thought to be impossible. "Oh, you got a good look at it then, did you? Let's hope the rest of the seventh-years find it as amusing as you do when they find out that you've nicked their money for a _prank_."

Frank sighed happily, flopping back down onto the chair. "Get your knickers out of your arsehole, Victoire. _Ted's_ the handsomest wizard in the universe. I thought you'd get a kick out of it. All your b- _ahem,_" Frank course-corrected after being reminded by Fred that their Head of House was sitting with them. "All of your _stuff _is right inside."

Neville rolled his eyes. "You're a bloody idiot, son, if you think I don't know what's going on. Seventh-years have _always_ held their own Halloween party, and the party has _always_ been found out and disbanded."

Frank shook his head as Victoire stormed once again out of the portrait to secure the butterbeer for the party. "Not this time, dear father. _This _time, it'll be _right under your noses_ and you'll never suspect a thing."

Neville snorted. "Right."

Fred yawned and stretched. "I'm not sure this is all even worth it, what with Victoire's downright _hellish _mood about it all."

"Oh don't start, you're just sore because you can't come to the party. Besides, I think Vicky's just stressed about keeping it a secret from Eleanor."

Neville frowned. "Why is she keeping it a secret from Eleanor?"

"Well she's Head Girl, isn't she? We try to put her in as few bad positions as possible."

"Yeah, we like to save up our points with ole Ellie for when we _really_ need her influence." Fred grinned.

Neville laughed, but stood. "I think it's time to make my way back to your mum, Frank. Besides, if too many of my students see me down here and figure out that I'm quite lacking in the discipline department, I might have a revolt on my hands. Goodnight, boys."

"Goodnight, Dad."

"Goodnight, Uncle Neville."

Neville waved as he ducked into the portrait hallway, passing a still fuming Victoire on her way back in, looking quite flustered.

"Oh- sorry, Uncle Neville. Professor."

"Give him hell, V." Neville winked.

Victoire collapsed on the couch between Fred and Frank, turned to look at both of them and then sprawled out across their laps. "Pity me, boys."

"Aww," Fred petted Victoire's forehead as she looked up at him from his lap. "Is little Vicky getting tired of this party planning business."

She shook her head, swatting at Fred for the nickname. "That shit is senseless. I'm feeling _horrible_ about not telling Eleanor. How can you stand it, Frank?" She looked down to where her feet were resting.

Frank shrugged. "She and I have an arrangement, and the arrangement is that I don't tell her anything she would have to report, and she lets me snog her."

Victoire sighed but laughed along with Fred. The three sat like that for some time, chatting, until dust danced in the early morning light came streaming in the tall tower windows, about the Halloween party, Victoire and Frank's last year at Hogwarts and various other sentimental topics. The three finally made their way to bed, thankful for lazy Saturday mornings.

* * *

"Ahhh." Frank entered the Room of Requirement grinning and rubbing his hands together. He and Victoire had visited often in the last month, stocking their chosen location with butterbeer, a few secret bottles of firewhiskey, and assorted party snacks. As for the decorations, the room had thoroughly outdone itself. There were high vaulted ceilings draped with a mixture of fabrics – some a pale, shimmering purple, a few solid blacks, and some larger pieces enchanted to look like the night sky, swirling with galaxies. Romantic candle lighting threw shadows about the room, and little carved pumpkins lined the walls and columns, floating in spirals. Little tables were decorated with sweets and black cat statues and occasionally the non-threatening bat or two would glide across the room. Music was being piped in quite magically.

Frank found Victoire across the room, rearranging the food and drink. She looked up as he approached.

"Alright. Everything here seems to be in order. Have you got the mice?"

Frank nodded and reached into his robe pockets. He pulled out one small grey mouse with each hand. "Shall you have the honor?"

Victoire pulled out her wand. "I shall." She smiled quite wickedly, feeling much more excited and quite giddy about the party now that the time was upon them. She hoped Eleanor wouldn't be upset. Victoire cleared her throat and pointed her wand at the first mouse.

"_Vade Loquere._"

The grey mouse stood on its hind legs and sniffed the air. Victoire performed the same spell on the other and the two jumped to the floor and bounced out of the room, splitting paths as they exited the room. The doors to the room of requirement had opened up to an archway covered with orange and purple streamers. The room was still quite invisible, but not to anyone who would be visited by the messenger mice, which included most seventh-years.

Frank and Victoire sat to rest at one of the tables, cracking open a butterbeer each and taking a sip.

"I'm glad we found this one, V."

Victoire nodded and took a large gulp, looking around the room. "I think we're more lucky that it came back after the construction."

Having heard the legends of the inspiring Room of Requirement many different times in their childhood, the two set out looking for it every chance they got after the moment they stepped inside the castle walls. They must have paced in front of every length of stone and cinderblock a thousand times before they found it conveniently near the entrance to the Gryffindor tower. They kept the pact that they formed upon learning of its existence and told very few people of its whereabouts. Now, they supposed, would be as good of a time as ever to broadcast it to the rest of the school, or, at least, their class.

Victoire glanced at the thin silver watch on her wrist. "It's nearing eleven. Everyone will be here soon, I suspect."

Frank agreed. "I have something to show you." He got up and walked over to the far corner of the room where a square cupboard appeared at chest height in the wall. Frank pulled the wooden door open by its circular black knocker and gestured for Victoire to peer inside. She looked in warily.

"Frank!" She straightened, gasping at the grinning boy in surprise. "How did you get your mum to give us firewhiskey?"

"You can't ask for everything, Victoire. Sometimes you must show _initiative_."

Victoire laughed at Frank's precise quotation from her own mother, and Frank relaxed in relief. He hadn't been _entirely _certain of how this revelation would go, but apparently she approved.

"It's just for us, yeah?" She asked, making her way back to her butterbeer.

"And a few others. I just didn't want everyone getting at it. Dominique and I nipped down to the inn earlier this afternoon and got it."

Victoire frowned. She fiddled with her near-empty bottle and then looked back up at Frank. "You know, Frank, I've a question for you, and I need an honest answer."

"Alright." he said as he threw some crisps into his mouth at the food table.

"Have you got an interest in Dominique?"

"What?"

"As in, are you seeing her? Secretly?"

Frank choked on crisps but made his way over to her. He joined her at the table just as a small group of people came in the room. The three Ravenclaws stood just within the streamer doorway, stunned. Valerie Perks, a rounder girl with long blonde hair, came to first.

"Bloody _hell_." She whispered, marching across to the center of the room and twirling around. She stopped suddenly, whipping around to face Victoire and Frank. "Is this the Room of Requirement?"

Frank looked astonished and disappointed. "How did you know?"

"We're not in Ravenclaw for shits and giggles, my friend." said a girl named Magnolia Moon, who had short brown hair and unsettling eyes, as she walked across the floor with Agnes Spellman.

Victoire laughed and lifted her second butterbeer in the air. "Grab a drink, my friends, and happy early Halloween!"

More students streamed in over the course of the next half hour, from every house. The room seemed to turn the music up in balance to how loud its contents were being. Frank turned to Victoire and wiggled his eyebrows. "D'you suppose we should have something a little _warmer?_" He gestured to the bottles of butterbeer in their hands. Victoire, who was feeling quite pleased at how the party was going on, nodded vigerously. "_Oh, yes!_"

Frank got up from the table with two empty bottles in hand and walked towards the corner where he was hiding the firewhiskey. Suddenly, someone plopped down into his seat across from Victoire.

"Victoire Weasley!" the boy yelled happily.

"Tasbin Roland!" Victoire replied in equal volume.

"This is brilliant, sheer genius." He looke around the room for effect, his elbow-length brown hair dipping into a cup of punch as he turned.

"Thanks!" She giggled.

"And the mouse messenger? Brilliant as well. I'll say, I was worried when Frank was voted party captain, but when you said you'd help him I knew this was going to be great."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, mate." Frank said, reappearing at Tasbin's side. "Knock off and get your own spot." He handed Victoire a now-full bottle, the color of the liquid a bit darker than regular butterbeer.

Tasbin rolled his eyes but stood, grabbing another chair from a nearby table and pulling it up. "Say, how'd you lot get this much butterbeer? That's _a lot _of butterbeer. Enough to get the whole house drunk, and _that's _saying something."

Frank rolled his eyes. "I think you'd puke before you drank enough butterbeer to feel drunk."

Victoire shrugged. "I think it's nice. You have three or four and you've got a little head swimming going on." She looked at Frank pointedly and knocked her bottle of firewhiskey against Frank's, took a swig, and grinned. "Or you get something a little harder."

Tasbin shook his head. "I dare say you two have a bit more than butterbeer going on in those bottles."

Frank leaned in close. "There's a cabinet of firewhiskey in the corner. Would you like to warm up your punch, dear Tas?"

Tasbin laughed. "No thank you, dear Frank. You know I don't drink."

Frank shrugged and leaned back in his seat. "Just thought I'd offer."

"Where's Oleen tonight, Tas?"

"She'll be around at some point. She's probably off snogging that git of hers."

"Right, our third?"

"Best mate, he is."

Frank and Tasbin laughed. Oleen, Tasbin's twin sister, was dating the boy who completed a trio of Gryffindor seventh-years. Ezra Long was tall and lanky with limp black hair and a kind face. He and Oleen had been together for a rather short amount of time, but it had been a relationship long coming. Tasbin wasn't extremely happy about it, but didn't really have much to argue against since he and Ezra had been good friends for nearly seven years.

Victoire rolled her eyes. "Right. You three have been too busy with your girlfriends this past month to even take a second glance at one another."

Frank grinned. "Are you complaining, love? We could get right back to our old ways, if you miss us too much."

"I'd rather not be the target of your harassment, thanks." Victoire snorted and stood. "Enjoy the party, boys. I know _I_ will." Victoire raised her bottle once more, finishing off the drink and grimacing as the firewhiskey scorched her throat.

She joined two other friends at a table across the room.

"Hullo, gorgeous." said Gala Roper as Victoire pulled a seat up and sat down. "Would you like some mead?"

Victoire smiled and shook her head, feeling a bit dizzy as she did it. "I've had _quite_ enough to drink for the moment, I think."

Gala gestured to the girl next to her, Lennon Carmichael. "I think Lemon here has done the same."

Lennon leaned towards Victoire, grinning. "I have _not_. The witch just doesn't want to share anymore with _me._"

Gala smiled and turned back to Victoire. "It's a bloody brilliant party, V. It was an excellent plan to have it so early on. A "pre-Halloween" party instead of the usual. I doubt they'll catch on to us, unless it's later on and we're all stumbling back to our dormitories.

"Yes, it's a good party, isn't it?" Victoire said thoughtfully. She looked around the room where her classmates were chatting and drinking and dancing. "We were lucky, that's all, what with Mrs. Longbottom's willingness to provide the butterbeer and our finding the room. Also," Victoire smiled softly at her friends. "I think we've had pretty good luck with the people as well."

Lennon giggled. "Don't get all sentimental on us, _Victoire_." She took a swig of Gala's mead, much to the dismay of the brunette. "It's only October."

"I don't know," Victoire sighed. "I suppose I'm a bit sad because I've been so _daft. _We've got great people in our class, haven't we? Very few of us don't get along, despite our parent's legacies and such."

"Cheers to that." said Lennon.

"And well, I feel like I spent the past six years stuck up the arses of everyone in Teddy's year. I mean, I know you both pretty well and you're great friends, and Eleanor and all, but," she sighed and smiled again, fiddling with her empty bottle. "I suppose I am just getting sentimental."

Gala and Lennon nodded sympathetically, but didn't have time to respond as a shadow fell over the table.

"Victoire."

Victoire looked up and shrunk back into her seat. "Oh, Ellie." She said softly.

Eleanor stood, half-angry half-upset, in front of her three closest friends. She looked down at them, holding a mouse in one hand and a wand in the other.

"Eleanor!" Frank swooped over, wrapping her in his arms and laughing. "You found us! Here, love, have some firewhiskey."

Victoire winced as she felt Eleanor ready to explode. When she heard no screaming, she opened one eye, blowing a strand of white-blonde hair out of her eyes. Eleanor relaxed heavily against Frank's chest, who was seemingly holding her up entirely now, and downed the entire cup of punch and whiskey in one go. Frank looked wide-eyed at Victoire over Eleanor's shoulder as if to say, _how did she find us?_

Eleanor lifted her empty cup up pitifully. "Another, please."

Frank took her cup and handed it to Tasbin, who was now nearby. "You heard the lady." Frank kissed Eleanor on the top of her head and swayed back and forth to the music.

* * *

Eleanor slumped drunkenly against the table, her sand-colored hair having been hastily tucked into a messy bun and her robes thrown on the floor long ago leaving Ms. Bones in her pajama shorts and a thin tank top.

"It's not that I don't _want_ to be Head Girl, V." Eleanor jumped as she hiccupped. "It's just so _hard_ and I _hate it _and I'd _rather not._ I hate being put in this kind of position, you know?"

Victoire, nearly as inebriated as Eleanor, swayed forward. "I know _exactly_ what you mean."

Oleen Roland was snoring between them, her head resting on the tabletop but her arms swinging softly underneath. She and Ezra had finally joined the party near the end, welcomed by a chorus of hollars and crude jokes. Frank, Tasbin, and Ezra came along and joined the girls at the table.

"Well," Frank said, leaning back in his chair with a drunken grin. "I've just sent the last group of Slytherins out. _They _are absolutely _smashed_. Especially Florence."

"So is my sister," Tasbin said concernedly. "what've you done to her?"

Eleanor shrugged, bringing her empty cup up to her mouth and pretending to sip. Victoire leaned back and looked around the room, but hiccupped and sent herself into a fit of laughter, into which Eleanor quickly followed.

Tasbin frowned and shook his sister awake. "Ollie?"

The brunette shot up in her seat. "What? What is it? I don't want another short."

"Short!" Eleanor exclaimed, doubling over in laugher once more.

"Shot. Shot shot shot…" Oleen tilted her head backwards to look up at her brother. "Tas! Tas you should take a short." Oleen messily poured the last bit of firewhiskey into her cup, had a second thought, and poured it back into the bottle, spilling half of it onto the table. "Take a shot, Assbin. You don't need a cup."

Tasbin rolled his eyes and plucked his sister up from the chair, grasping her firmly under each arm.

"It's time for bed, Ollie."

She shook her head fervently. "You can't make me. You can't even get up the stairs."

Eleanor laughed. "It's because you've got a cock." She turned. "As have you, Frank! I've seen it."

Victoire wrinkled her nose. "I _don't _want to hear about little Frankie's _cock_." Victoire climbed up on the table, sat on her knees, and looked thoughtfully at Ezra. "You!" She yelled, pointing.

Ezra flushed. "I don't like where this is going."

Victoire scooted over to him, rocking the table and sloshing an unfinished drink into Frank's lap, which elicited muttered disapproval from the boy. Victoire came very close to Ezra's face, their noses brushing. He leaned backwards, but Victoire only followed.

"You," she spoke in what she thought was a whisper. "are going to give _Ollie_ a _ride on your back_."

"Am I?"

"Oh yes. And _you_," She swiveled to Frank, "are going to give _Ellie_ a ride." Frank shrugged and swished the last of a bottle of mead into his mouth, standing up and turning his back to a gleeful Eleanor.

"And _you_," Victoire stumbled while turning to Tasbin and grabbed a hold of his sleeve for support. "are carrying _me_!"

Tasbin sighed and rolled his eyes, but backed up to the table where Victoire was now standing. Ezra gingerly positioned Oleen on his own back, and Eleanor was all ready to go with Frank, standing by the door and holding a basket of hydration potions in one hand and a party whistle in the other.

"On your mark!" Eleanor cried, pulling the streamers in the doorway back against the wall.

"Is this a race?" Tasbin asked woefully.

"Get set!"

Victoire cackled, jumping to readjust on Tasbin's back.

"_Go!_"

* * *

Neville walked down the dark corridor towards classroom eleven. He didn't often come down this way anymore, even on his rounds, mostly because there wasn't much down here. Just because it was the largest corridor on the first floor didn't mean much at all. The dim sconces lit the pathway to the green classroom door, which Neville moved through silently, heading straight for the back of the classroom. He knocked on the office door and pushed it open as a voice within called for him.

"It is good to see you, Neville."

"And you, Firenze."

The centaur looked up from his elevated desk at his new guest and gestured to the chair across from him. Neville climbed the steps to the platform that the chair was situated on and sat comfortably with his friend.

"I understand you've had a dream, and you wish to inquire about it."

Neville nodded, having told him as much at dinner that day. "If you'll remember – the TriWizard Tournament, back in my fourth year."

"Yes I remember." The aging centaur snorted.

"Well, that year, I took Ginny Weasley to the Yule Ball. I was quite in love with her then – but I'm not, now." Neville frowned, uncertain of himself. "I'm sure of it. But in my dream I – I was dancing with her and I loved her very much, but my wife was there and she was crying, and I loved her as well." Neville looked up at the centaur, obviously confused.

"Go on."

"And then everyone but Hannah and I was dead. And Ginny, she – she was _especially _dead. And then I was dying – I saw the killing curse come straight at me, and it was like I laid down for it. No one cast it, it was just coming for me. I was waiting for it to hit when I woke up."

Firenze nodded, looking wise as he placed half-moon glasses on his nose. "Dreams are the source of every problem, and every solution. Every warning and every memory. Dreams, my friend, are often nothing but dreams."

Neville furrowed his brow. "It just felt so unlike a dream, but yet it looked so unreal, the aesthetics of it."

Firenze studied Neville carefully. "You're very upset about this."

Neville shrugged. "I think, for the most part, it was Ginny that most unnerved me. I haven't had a dream about her in years, in any sense. And just – to dream of her death. It was so painful, but I had barely any reaction."

Firenze was quiet for a long while. Finally, he leaned forward. "Neville, the skies know that strange times are coming. Our old wounds, barely scabbed over, might soon be insignificant next to new ones."

"So you're saying that we're definitely going to have a war, then." Neville straightened in his chair.

Firenze shook his head. "I'm saying that the skies foretell, and what they foretell can change. Right now, it is _cloudy_. We know not what lies beyond the clouds. But we must prepare for all possible outcomes."

Neville sighed, slumping back in his chair and shaking his head slowly. "I don't know, Firenze. You've barely said anything substantial at all but I do feel as if you've given me some great knowledge. It's illusion magic, it is."

Firenze laughed heartily, the noise bouncing off the quiet castle walls. "I'll say, no man has ever spoken more truth to me than that."

Neville stood and bowed deeply. "Thank you for meeting with me, Firenze. I've quite enjoyed our midnight meeting."

"Anytime, my friend." Firenze called after Neville as he made his way through the connecting classroom. "And under any sky, as well."

Neville walked back down the corridor and up towards the Gryffindor tower instead of heading out to his bed in the greenhouse. It was a Saturday night, and he doubted that Frank and the Weasley children were in bed yet, despite the late hour. As he climbed the last stair that led to the tower entrance, he paused. There was a _thumping_.

"What in Merlin's nam-." It was as if a light bulb had gone off in Neville's head. He walked to a section of wall near the tower entrance and paced three times.

"I'm trying to find the party." he thought to himself repetitively. As he turned his heel at the end of the third pace, he stopped and looked at what had been a blank slab of wall. Now, in place of stone, were party streamers, and he could hear clearly the noise coming from inside.

He ducked his head in, and a Slytherin seventh-year, Floyd Pucey, was standing quite near the door looking into a basket full of vials stared back with widening eyes.

"Er- Professor, we were just-"

Neville shook his head. "Shh. Pretend I'm not here."

Floyd raised an eyebrow but turned and disappeared into the party. Neville scanned the crowd for his son and quickly found him, leaning against a column off to the side of the room and chatting with his friend Ezra Long, who was holding his arm tightly around Oleen Roland's waist. Neville stepped back into the hallway and thought for a good while about his actions.

"I suppose if I hadn't come for a visit, I wouldn't have known at all." He thought aloud. He stared down at his feet and shook his head, decidedly retreating into the darkened corridor back down to the entrance of the castle.


End file.
